


Riving Metal and Melting Ice

by brown_recluse



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Tony, Cannon Compliant Up To Spiderman: Homecoming, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Civil War Fix-It, Eventual Smut, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slow Build, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Top Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7302409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brown_recluse/pseuds/brown_recluse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a CA:CW fix-it of the Stony variant. I keep reading posts on tumblr that say MCU Steve and Tony are not friends, so Stony fic is canonically invalid. I tried to come up with a story that might explain how Stony can exist, using just the MCU characters' actions and dialog in the movies to build on. Some stuff from the Agent Carter TV series might have snuck in, but I don't think so. This is only canon compliant up to Spiderman: Homecoming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steve's Face

**Author's Note:**

> I loved ann2who's "One Phone Call Away", and I used her idea of having them meet at a neutral hotel offsite in my last chapter. I hope she doesn't mind.
> 
> This is my first fic, and it is a very slow build. Sorry, I was trying to cover everything and it just kept getting longer. I hope it's not too terrible and that some of you guys will give it a chance, and then give me some feedback. Or tell me to go away. Thanks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and his team try to deal with their exile in Wakanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot of exposition and set-up, but it's needed for the rest of the story to work.

Steve Rogers had an impassive face. Strong and angular, smooth as marble. Whatever his feelings, his face rarely betrayed them. He tried not to be too proud of its beauty. It wasn’t really his. But he counted it as a strength. It projected confidence and self-control. No less an expert than Natasha Romanoff had told him he was a “hard read”.

He had problems believing that the view in the mirror might never change. He didn’t know how long the super-soldier serum would lengthen his lifespan. Dr. Erskine himself hadn’t known. All he knew was that since the day he’d become Captain America, in a lab no one could prove had ever existed, he saw no sign of aging or change in his face. After each mission or fight, no matter how brutal, his face would look exactly the same after the bruises had healed. No scarring, no lasting damage. It remained flawless. For seventy-something years it had been that way.

A mere three months after he fled with Bucky to Wakanda, he looked in the mirror and saw it.

  


* * *

  


When Rogers had first landed, dazed and wounded, in T’Challa’s homeland, with his half-dead friend in tow, he was close to broken. Only his concern for James Barnes kept him going.

Losing Bucky Barnes had cast a cold shadow over his life. Peggy had told him over and over that it wasn’t his fault, that Barnes himself would’ve said so. Eventually, he learned to push the guilt into the background of his daily existence, but it was always ready to ambush him if things got too quiet. He had spent decades in the ice, been unceremoniously dumped into a new era, but he still had the nightmares – hearing Barnes scream, reaching out desperately into nothingness.

Now he had Barnes back and he couldn't contain himself. He spent the better part of every day by his best friend's side, first in a Wakandan hospital during recovery and then in the multi-unit living quarters T’Challa had provided for them. Steve had always been the type that listened more than talked, but now he found himself jabbering to Barnes endlessly, about every minute detail of his life. Barnes wouldn’t speak, and Steve was constantly, nervously, trying to fill the silence. He had never had trouble communicating with Bucky, and he was convinced that if his friend would open up about what had happened to him under Hydra, it would help his recovery.

But Barnes remained silent. He was no longer the exuberant troublemaker he had been when they were young, and Steve didn’t know if it was because of the torture, or the general misery his life had been under Hydra. He was in so much mental pain, his missing arm didn’t even seem register. His deep blue eyes were empty and flat, impossible to read. So Rogers didn’t push. Bucky would feel comfortable talking when he got used to being safe. Steve was sure of it.

In the meantime, Clint, Sam, Wanda and Scott Lang were also there. Then Natasha showed up. She didn’t trust Thunderbolt Ross, even though he hadn’t arrested her in all the confusion. T’Challa was a gracious host and provided them with all they needed, but they didn’t leave the compound. They weren’t _exactly_ afraid – T’Challa had made it known they were not to be harmed. But they were unsure of the reception they would get from the Wakandan people.

It wasn’t just that they looked like outsiders. The Wakandans had been pro-Accords after the death of their outreach ambassadors in Lagos and now they had lost their king. Chances were the former Avengers would not be warmly welcomed. At best, they would be an uncomfortable curiosity. So they stayed secluded.

Steve had survived much worse. There were things to do. They had extensive grounds surrounding the compound to roam around in. During the day, they tried to keep their combat skills sharp, running, sparing... Clint was even teaching them how to shoot. At night, they would have dinner in the main suite and talk, or drink, or whatever they felt like doing. Wanda was badly shaken from the whole conflict, but the rest had settled in pretty well. Rogers almost felt he was back hanging out with the first Avengers team. Bruce Banner and Thor had been gone the majority of the time then, anyway. And everybody else was there. Except...

It would get better with time, Steve thought, and then he would think about joining the community outside the walls. He had already researched several public service projects that he would offer to join.

Then Natasha left.

Easy for her, thought Rogers. She could create and shed identities like a snake did skin. It shouldn’t have taken anyone by surprise. She had confided to Clint that she was going stir-crazy and wanted to take her chances. Steve could see the envy in Clint’s eyes as he told them about it. Barton missed his family terribly, but he knew if they were questioned, they could honestly say they knew nothing about his whereabouts. He stayed in Wakanda simply because he believed any attempted contact with his family would put them in danger. And what was the point of sneaking home if he couldn't see them?

  


* * *

  


When Barnes said he wished to go back into cryo, Steve was poleaxed. At first, they had tried to act as if they believed they could just pick their friendship up where they had left off. That hadn't _exactly_ worked, but Steve had thought they were making progress. Bucky had always brightened when Rogers showed up, and Steve had told himself it was unrealistic to think that he could shake off so much abuse at will. He needed more time, that was all. Now he saw Barnes must have been hiding how much he was struggling.

“I’m losing it, Steve,” he finally confessed one morning. “I'm afraid to sleep. I have the most goddawful nightmares. You wouldn't believe this stuff.” His dead eyes briefly showed concern. "How long can a guy live without sleep, anyway?"

“It’s probably shock, Buck. After what you’ve been through... Your adrenal system is shot. Give yourself time. And whatever you need to talk about,” Steve stooped to look him straight in the eyes, “I’m here to listen. _About anything._ Really.”

“What if I do something… Look, I don't know where I am half the time. I don't know _who_ I am the other half. I can feel the Soldier just _waiting_ to… I'm okay when you’re here, but if I need you as a distraction... just to maintain control…”

Rogers had smiled. “You can use me as a distraction 24/7 if you want, buddy. I’m not going anywhere.”

But it had just gotten worse. Barnes shook constantly, visibly, and it put them all on edge. Several times, Rogers had found him in his room, crying uncontrollably. When Steve asked, Bucky couldn't tell him why. Rogers had asked T’Challa if Barnes could see someone, an expert in psychiatry maybe, but T’Challa already had a team of Wakanda’s best scientific minds monitoring Bucky, and they weren’t making any progress. Physically he seemed healthy. They believed the problem was deep in his brain, and that the treatment might be beyond the scope of current research.

Barnes was suffering, and Steve knew it was selfish to deny him peace just to have his company. What mattered was that Bucky stayed safe. So Steve swallowed his pain and let Barnes go. Every day, he would visit the university that housed Barnes’ cryo tube. His face was serene and beautiful through the glass, and Steve told himself it was only for a little while. Modern neuroscience was advancing by leaps and bounds. These people would be able to cure Bucky in no time, if they were... as obsessive as...

  


* * *

  


Clint had found a way to talk to Natasha on the outside, but he was keeping it covert. For weeks, he was up clacking away at his computer most of the night. One morning, he told Rogers that she had returned to DC through back channel contacts, and then to California. She was getting help moving around and had been staying in numerous safe houses, and Rogers, for once, envied her skillset. With every communication, Barton was more upbeat and hopeful. Rogers knew they were cooking up a strategy that would reunite Barton with his family. Clint wouldn't discuss it, and Steve guessed that he didn’t want to raise his hopes too high and then crash and burn if things didn’t fall into place. When he finally came to Steve to talk, he was laser-focused and to the point, like the marksman he was.

“I’m signing the Accords. I’m letting you know first.”

Steve wasn't surprised, but Clint's bluntness threw him. “What changed your mind?”

“Nat says she thinks can get me back home. She’s negotiated a... I guess, you’d call it a surrender?... with certain parties, that would allow me back into the US with ‘minimal’ penalties. If I sign.”

“What’s ‘minimal’, Clint?”

Barton shrugged. “I don’t know, because she doesn't really know yet. She's still bargaining with them. But I trust her. She won't sell me out. If she says 'minimal,' it’s something I can handle.”

Steve gave him a hard look. “You’d give up your freedom that easily?”

“There’s nothing 'easily' about it, Rogers. I’m looking at spending the rest of my life never seeing my kids again. I got into this because you asked me for help, not because of some damn principle about freedom or not following orders. I’ve been in the service in some way or another all my life. I’m used to following orders.”

Steve paused, trying to think of an argument.

“I’m here because I was following _your_ orders, Cap.”

“Do you even know who these people are that Nat’s talking to?”

“Sure, I know them.”

Rogers wondered how long he would have to hold Barton’s gaze before he spilled. Clint gave a small, exasperated roll of his eyes. They couldn’t avoid the name forever.

“It’s Tony Stark. And a bunch of other people he deals with. Nat's trying to get Stark to strong-arm Ross into suspending my sentence. She says Ross blusters a lot, but underneath it all, he's afraid of Stark. He’s afraid of losing Stark Industries' tech. She thinks as long as they put on a little show of due process for the press, Ross’ll back off on an extended jail term. Hell, she says it may even be house arrest, best case scenario.”

Steve didn’t know what to say.

“That’s not all, Steve.” Clint hesitated, but continued when Steve nodded briefly. “She says the door might be open for Sam and Scott. She hasn’t gotten into the terms yet, but if they’re willing to deal she thinks she can get Stark to move on them, too. He doesn’t seem to be ‘strongly opposed’. Her words.”

Rogers felt the ground fall away beneath him, but all he could say was “And Wanda?”

“Wanda’s a no-go. Nat says Stark hates her. He feels that she somehow had something to do with what happened to Rhodes.”

Steve scoffed. Hearing Tony Stark’s views on anything infuriated him. Clint continued anyway.

“Well, Wanda’s pretty much always hated him, for similarly ridiculous reasons. He’s knows that. He was trying to build bridges when we were working together, for the good of the team. But after the way shit went down, he’s got more than enough justification to hate her back. He’s not Mother Theresa.” Clint gave an ironic smile. “As we all know.”

Rogers didn’t bother to inquire about himself and Bucky. It wasn’t a complete surprise to him that Stark knew where they were, and that it was all of them. He felt a flash of anger that Natasha had basically confirmed it for him, but she was no fool. Stark must’ve already been certain. She was on a mission to help Clint, so the rest of them were not a priority for her.

No one's on a mission to help _me_ , Steve thought bitterly.

“Well. I’ll miss you, Barton. I guess all I can do is wish you good luck. But if I were you, I’d watch my back. Don’t want it broken.”

Clint smirked. “I just said that to piss him off. Tony likes me. And Nat. He would rather die than admit it, of course. He’s smarting a little about Nat. Feels she sort of betrayed him, even though she’s been able to smooth his fur down a bit. But she says I’m completely in the clear. Be partying at his place in no time.”

Barton could see Steve’s face darken. “How nice for you,” he retorted coldly. “So. I guess now this whole thing was _my_ fault.” Steve didn’t do sarcasm well.

Clint raised an eyebrow. This was the first hint of self-pity he’d ever heard from Steve Rogers. “I’m not saying it’s fair.”

Then he gave Steve a slight, consoling smile. “I’ll find a way to keep in touch. Stay strong, Cap.”


	2. Tony's Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve considers possible reasons for his problems with Tony.

Clint departed, on a private plane T’Challa provided for him. The Wakandan king seemed eager to help. He had taken a tricky position and naturally felt uneasy about harboring Rogers’ team. Any feelers he could send in Stark’s direction might reopen communications, and Barton had now volunteered.

Wanda took his departure especially hard. She confined herself mostly to her room now, only exiting to eat and occasionally watch TV in the common room in silence. Rogers feared she was sinking into a severe depression.

Lang disappeared without even announcing he was leaving. One morning, he was just gone. Lang had lived as a fugitive in the US for long periods of time, before he even had Hank Pym’s suit. With it, it would be a cinch, and Pym had managed to get it back from the government. There was no reason to believe he wouldn't help Lang by letting him “borrow” it. Like Barton, Lang had a family to return to. Steve might’ve been more upset, if he wasn’t in a slight fog. Barton had opened the floodgates by talking about Stark.

Tony Stark. Bane of his existence, almost worse than Hydra. He had avoided thinking about Tony Stark through willpower and an unspoken understanding with the others that they wouldn’t mention him. That spell was now broken.

Before he’d even met Tony Stark, he had a problem with him. After he had been dug from the ice, he had fallen under the protection of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Nick Fury. He had agreed to join S.H.I.E.L.D., through lack of any other option. Fury had furnished him with quarters and a salary, and given him a dossier containing information about S.H.I.E.L.D. and persons that he could potentially be working with. It was a huge amount of information, but one bizarre personnel file caught his eye immediately.

And so he had discovered Iron Man, before anything else in the modern military, and the associated name delivered what felt like an electric jolt to the heart. Stark. Not Howard... Anthony. But it had to be the same family. It turned out to be the son. Howard’s only child.

Howard, along with his wife, had died relatively young, victims of a car accident. That bit of info had sent Rogers into an emotional tailspin, one of many he was to suffer as his personal losses made themselves known. Bucky, the Howling Commandos, Colonel Phillips, all were dead. He had no information about Peggy then, and believed her to be dead, too. Of course, most would’ve been over ninety. Except, as far as Steve was concerned, he had seen them all yesterday.

Fury warned him to take it slow, that he would need time to adjust to his new reality and mourn his old life. Instead, he devoured all the information Fury had given him about Anthony Edward Stark.

On the surface, this kid was definitely his father’s son. Howard Stark had had a chokehold on the leading edge of technology in Steve’s day, and had maintained it for decades after Steve was presumed dead. Stark Industries was a behemoth now, with its hand in everything. And this kid had grabbed the zeitgeist after Howard had died, without even trying. He had only been twenty at the time. He was obviously every bit the genius his father was.

Howard would’ve been beyond proud of this kid, thought Rogers. He imagined the father and son working together on inventions, sharing ideas and concepts too complicated for anyone else to understand. They probably spoke their own private language. They must have adored each other. The thought made Steve happy, and jealous. A secret, primal place inside him was upset that he had almost certainly been supplanted in Howard’s affections. But he quashed the feeling immediately. He simply missed Howard, he told himself. And yearned for his own father, who he had never known.

As soon as he was (barely) familiar with the internet, he read everything he could about Anthony Stark, and the picture came into sharper focus. The son also had all of Howard’s less pleasant qualities, to an even greater degree. He was a narcissist, a compulsive womanizer, and most likely an alcoholic. Before he went through the ordeal that spawned Iron Man, he was also a war profiteer with no problem selling weapons on both sides of any conflict. There was a limitless supply of video online showing him behaving badly or otherwise making a fool out of himself. Public opinion of him was completely polarized, and those who liked him did so either because of his genius or his glamour, never his character.

Steve didn’t know what he had hoped to find. A replacement? He had told himself over and over that this was not Howard. Not even close. Steve was left with a distinct impression that “Tony” hadn’t even liked his father.

But… one moment during that time remained crystal clear in his memory. All Fury’s personnel folders contained a photo of the subject, and Rogers looked at these before he read anything. The photo in Stark’s folder was of Iron Man's faceplate. For weeks as Steve recovered, he wondered what Howard’s son actually looked like. Like Howard? Steve thought with desperate hope. He longed for something familiar, anything, even a likeness of a friend.

After Fury gave him a computer, he looked for a photo of Anthony Stark. The image he found was a full-face head shot, with a neutral expression, like you’d see on a passport. Rogers remembered a feeling when he first saw it, something he couldn’t define, a sense of something... sparking?

The face was not Howard’s, though the coloring was the same. And Tony also wore facial hair, like his father. But the physical similarities ended there. Howard Stark was a handsome man, but his resting face was hard. Self-satisfied. Friendly, when you got to know him better, but it was plainly a mask, strictly for presentation. He rarely showed softer emotions. Rogers had expected Tony’s face to be similarly arrogant or smug. It wasn’t.

He had a longer face than Howard’s, just enough to make him look somewhat more intelligent. A more angular jaw. Thick, dark hair. Slightly sunken, lined cheeks, giving him a fairly stressed appearance. And a pair of huge, dark eyes with long lashes. Limpid eyes, like a child’s. Not at all like Howard’s. His expression, rather than cockiness, was one of mild anxiety.

Rogers was intrigued. That, he thought, is an _attractive_ face. He felt a deep rush of pleasure and... something else. The urge to possess? And then the sensations had faded, as fast as they had occurred, and he just felt confused.

Afterwards, late at night when he had trouble sleeping, he would imagine himself conversing with Stark. He would rehearse what he would say, and try to figure out how Stark would reply, and he would tell Stark all about what his father had been like in Steve’s day and all he did for the war effort. He hoped they would be friends, and then tried to temper his hope. The whole thing was childish, he told himself, but he couldn’t help it.

And then he had met Tony Stark, and to say it had been a disappointment would’ve been a tremendous understatement. After a perfunctory greeting while capturing Loki, Rogers had tried to start a conversation about the mission, and Stark had replied with some wisecrack about a “capsicle” and Steve being a senior citizen or something, and Rogers immediately felt he was being mocked, something he was extremely sensitive about, given his childhood.

Then he had had to break up a stupid fight between Stark and Thor. Somewhere between Stuttgart and the helicarrier, a trip that couldn’t have lasted longer than an hour, Steve decided he really didn’t like Tony Stark. And it never got better between them.

They agreed on nothing. They were polar opposites, in personality and beliefs. Rogers had been raised with straightforward traditional values, honesty and humility being foremost among them. Stark had nothing but contempt for tradition, and humility was a foreign concept to him. Rogers was the calm center of any storm. Stark was so hyperkinetic he practically crackled when he moved.

At first, just being in his general vicinity made Rogers nervous. He dreaded whatever pointed remark or sarcastic comment Stark would come up with next. They always seemed to be aimed at him, and he felt frequent waves of humiliation, like he was still a skinny kid back in Brooklyn, the butt of every joke. He had not felt that way for a long time, but Stark's manner brought it back full-force, like it had never faded. Later, Steve would realize that that was the way Stark engaged with people in general. Didn't matter. Steve still didn’t like it.

And Stark was so _shallow_. Steve couldn’t believe the amount of energy he put into possessions and appearance. He was like an obnoxious little peacock.

Even though it was against Steve's nature to be rude, he found himself constantly trying to burst Stark’s bubble, lecturing Stark about his arrogance and cynical attitude, and taking shots at his character. It made no difference, as Stark just laughed at him, and then he felt embarrassed about sounding like a hectoring schoolteacher. He didn’t like who he was around Stark, and blamed Tony for provoking him.

Over time, Steve started to relax around Stark. By necessity, he had to spend a good deal of time around him, and he got used to him. He could even converse with Stark without feeling the need to retort to his verbal barbs. Tony had built them all their own cushy suites in Avengers Tower, and Steve felt relatively comfortable spending occasional nights there, but he never moved in, even though Tony had tried to furnish it to his liking and stocked the fridge with his favorite foods. (Steve wanted a place in the vicinity of his old neighborhood in Brooklyn, but it had been gentrified, and he was having trouble affording the rent.)

And he and Stark were phenomenal together in the field of combat. Perfectly synchronized, like they could read each other’s minds. But despite their limited progress, his relationship with the billionaire largely boiled down to an ongoing power struggle. And it was typical of that struggle that Stark had discovered the virtues of following orders just as Rogers had decided it was no longer safe.

  


* * *

  


There now remained only Wanda, Sam and Steve at the compound in Wakanda. Wanda almost never came out now, and Steve was getting desperate.

One afternoon, Sam pulled him aside and told him, “She’s got to go home, wherever that is. Sokovia’s not an option. She has to go back to the States.”

“To prison? How will that be better?”

Sam was quiet for a moment, then spoke haltingly. “I’ve been in contact with Clint. He says he might be seeing just a little bit of movement on Wanda with Stark. If we put it out there that it’s a matter of her mental health... She’s young. He won’t want to be the old bully that pushes her over the edge.”

“How do you figure? He blames her for Ultron. That’s bogus, but he believes it.”

“Well, she has to go back somehow.” Sam sighed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and Rogers felt something ominous coming. “Steve. I’m going back, too.”

Rogers blinked hard. “When did you decide this?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for awhile. My mother wasn’t in the greatest health when I left, and my clients at the VA were relying on me. I abandoned everything to be an Avenger. I forgot that wasn’t the only thing I was.”

“I wish you would have let me in on this. I know you have doubts. I can…”

“Rogers, I love you, man, but hanging out here for the rest of my days isn’t my idea of a life. I’ve got to go back and make things right. It’ll be murder, but the sooner I start, the sooner I’ll come out the other end. And I can advocate for Wanda better if I’m there.”

“So you’re going to sign the Accords, just like that.”

“I don’t know if I’ll sign or not. I’ll have to see what they’ve turned into while we’ve been gone. Truth is, I never read them. Not all the way through. And if I decide not to sign, if I have to spend time in prison, I can do that, too.” He paused. “Clint’s not even in prison, he’s home. They’re restricting his movements, but he’s home.”

“God, Sam, if you guys all cave that easily, what was all this for?”

Sam looked perplexed. “For Barnes. Right?”

Rogers took a step back. “That’s not what it was about! I thought we agreed the Accords were a terrible idea.”

“Steve, you’re gonna make me say something I don’t want to say. I got into this because you asked me to, and you’re my friend. And a good guy. I trusted you knew what you were doing. But now? I’m thinking maybe I just got caught up.”

“Well.” Rogers tried to collect his thoughts. “I’m sorry if you think I misled you. You’ve got to decide for yourself, I guess.” And then he allowed himself a little bit of self-centeredness. “I’ll miss you. I told myself I would be able to manage without the others, if only you would stay.”

“I’m sorry. Really. It wasn’t a snap decision.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Well, I guess we all know what the situation is now. Natasha goes back, no problem. Clint goes back, no problem. You. Maybe even Wanda. But I can just imagine the amount of crap that would rain down if I asked Stark about me and Bucky.”

“Do you and Bucky even want to go back?”

“I don’t know, Sam. If it’s just me over here, now?” Steve dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Stark must be laughing his balls off. I don’t know if anything’s bad enough to send me crawling to him.”

“You two are the worst.”

“What?”

Sam gave a grim chuckle. “Why do you care so much what he thinks? Do you know how much trouble you two have made for the rest of us, with this ongoing epic dick-measuring contest? It caused Ultron, it caused Siberia, now you’re going for the hat-trick. Why are you so hell-bent on letting him know you’re top dog? Are you into him?”

Steve froze. Stark’s long-ago internet picture flashed across his mind.

“Because if that’s it, go be with him, and spare us all the next round of carnage. It’s okay now, in case you haven’t caught up.”

“I’m not _into_ Tony Stark!”

“Whatever, man. Look, I can try to give your side of the story to the powers-that-be when I get there, but I can’t see Stark budging on this without any action from you. And Ross probably wants you in front of a firing squad.”

Steve was quiet, staring at the ground.

Sam sounded resigned. “You're my best friend, Cap. I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I can handle it.” Steve looked up and gave a defiant smile. “And I’m not alone.”


	3. A King's Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes to T'Challa for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using T'Challa mainly as a plot device here, though I tried to give him some personality. I know he deserves better, but I this is a Stony fic.

Exactly a week after he saw Sam off, Steve stopped being able to sleep through the night. In the beginning, he would wake up a few times a night feeling guilt or dread, about everything or nothing at all, and eventually drop back off.

Then he stopped being able to go back to sleep. He would obsess all night, rehashing things he should’ve said or done.

He thought of Bucky, isolated in cryo, like a lab specimen floating in a jar. He remembered Barnes before the war, happy, hopeful, _alive_. He had returned to Rogers a hollowed-out cipher. Rogers fumed at the injustice of it. And he could do nothing about it. Bucky was completely at the mercy of strangers now, and who knew how long that would last? He might as well have not escaped from Hydra at all.

The thought of abandoning him...

Steve tried to imagine himself with a Wakandan girl. Having a family, raising children. Working a civilian job. What was he qualified to do? He had only ever been trained in combat, and he couldn’t join the military here. Would any Wakandan girl even want him?

He scrutinized how he had handled things with the Accords over and over, until he was mentally dazed. Natasha’s voice came to him. _“This is what ‘making things worse’ looks like.”_ He missed Sam constantly. And thought about what Sam had said, almost nonstop.

 _“Are you into him?”_ It was still an alien concept to him, men with other men. Things happened in the army, all the guys knew it. And he knew what 'all the guys' would say about it in the cold, hard light of day. Keeping it secret was a matter of life and death. Sometimes he was curious, like anyone would be about something odd like that. Didn’t mean anything.

Now he lived in a time where, in many countries, he could marry Tony, if he wanted. A fascinating thought. One he would quickly push out of his mind, whenever it occurred.

And he thought of Peggy. Peggy, Peggy... how he had loved her. But he hadn’t appreciated her enough. Her intelligence, her competence. In her prime, she would’ve known how to handle the whole Accords problem and advised him. If somehow, she had been the leader of the Avengers – she would never have botched the situation as badly as he had.

He thought of her eyes, her gentle smile. How she felt (briefly) in his arms. Sometimes he could even remember what she smelled like.

Rogers was not strictly a virgin, but he was close. There had been quickies with a couple of the USO girls, but he knew they had just been missing their boyfriends. It meant nothing to them, or to him. His first real time would have been with Peggy, but they had never gotten the chance to explore their love. He yearned for it now. Sometimes fantasizing about her would relax Steve enough to get to sleep.

It didn’t last. He started to spend almost every night wide awake, and he could barely function in the daylight. Intrusive thoughts of his past tormented him.

He tried to rouse Wanda from her stupor, but she was practically a zombie now, and he felt he soon would be, too. In desperation, he spent hours each day with Barnes, staring at him, thinking of their youth together. He often wished he could crawl into the cryo tube with him, and drift into nothingness. And that was where T’Challa observed him, from a distance.

  


* * *

  


T'Challa perceived Rogers’ alienation. So he began to invite Steve to the palace whenever possible, for meals, for conversation. T’Challa was a very busy man, but he shared whatever time he could with Rogers. And soon Steve felt more comfortable confiding in him.

“Of course you miss your homeland and friends. You’re human,” T’Challa replied, when Rogers apologized for bringing down the mood of his visits.

“You’ve been so generous to us. I feel like such an ingrate.” Steve hated that his suffering was so apparent. Was his stoic face finally failing him?

T’Challa waved his hand and made a “psshh” sound. “I expected as much. You’ve been forced to live and adjust to three different lives, Captain. Your friend, four. The human mind isn’t equipped for that.” His expression softened. “Nor is the super-human mind. Take the time you need. I am only sorry that you kept your troubles from me this long.”

“I can’t keep asking you for things. You’ve done enough.”

T’Challa gave him an ironic smile. “I’m a king, Steve Rogers. My country is rich. I have no problem with resources. I brought you here so I could assist. You do not have to do this alone to prove your strength. To yourself or me.”

Then he raised an eyebrow. “Ask me.”

“What?”

“The questions you’ve wanted to ask me since we began these visits.”

Rogers sighed in relief. “Have you been in contact with Ross and his team?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve signed the Accords?”

“Of course. I helped write them.”

Rogers hadn’t known that. He paused, then plowed on. “How are they all?”

“Everybody’s fine. Barton is under house arrest. Romanoff’s situation is still officially undecided, but she’s been in contact with all parties involved. She’s obviously acting as liaison between Ross, Stark and the other Avengers who have returned. Sam Wilson has been cleared of all charges. He was freed on his own recognizance.”

Sam was let completely off the hook? What was _that_ about? Out of all of them, he was the one closest to Steve. Stark barely knew him. But… Sam had been the one who turned around when Rhodes was in trouble, while he and Bucky had hauled ass away from Leipzig without a single look back.

T’Challa continued. “No one really knows what happened to Lang, but they also don’t seem concerned. They know they won’t find him if he doesn’t want to be found, and Wilson took responsibility for bringing him into the fray. He testified Lang never knew the implications of getting involved.”

“The only condition that has been put on all of them,” and here T’Challa gave a small sympathetic shake of his head, “is that they not contact you in any way.”

That explained why he’d heard nothing from Sam. “Yeah, well. I’m sure that’s a Stark thing.” Steve rolled his eyes. “He feels we all abandoned him, and he wants me to experience what that was like.”

“Yes. It would seem so.”

“Is he okay?” It was the polite thing to act concerned, thought Rogers.

T'Challa paused, and Steve could see he was struggling to interpret Tony's point of view. “I believe Stark is still very distressed about the situation. He looks so, anyway. He is trying to feign business as usual, but anyone who puts that much effort into not discussing the elephant in the room is almost certainly very agitated by the elephant.”

Rogers felt a hot little stab of joy. The thought that Stark might have simply gotten over their fight and gone merrily on his way had been bothering Steve to distraction. “He hasn’t talked about it at all?”

“No. No interviews, no media of any kind. He knows where you, Barnes and Maximoff are, but he refuses to ask me about you or how you came to be here. Granted, he likely knows most of the details. But one would presume I have, um, a _unique_ perspective on the situation. Still, he refuses to ask.”

“Sounds like you’ve spoken to him quite a lot.”

“No, not a lot. But my father taught me one of the requirements of a good king is having the ability to read people, otherwise how can one effectively rule them? I have a talent for it. And his eyes are speaking eyes.”

“And what have you read?”

“What Tony Stark is feeling is not primarily anger. He is suffering from what, in common terms, would be described as a broken heart.”

Steve was now riveted, and T’Challa could see it. “How do you mean?”

“Anger consumes energy. By necessity, it must dissipate over time. At least slightly. And he must have told some trusted people his side of the story. Maybe Colonel Rhodes or Vision. That also helps cool anger. But his isn’t cooling. That means he’s damaged somehow. Hurt. And that takes much more time to heal.”

Steve had always sympathized with people in distress, even if they were enemies. “Why is he hurt? Isn’t he getting support from people?”

“Oh yes. But not from the people he wishes.”

“Who does he wish it from?”

T’Challa looked at him pointedly, as if he were purposely acting clueless.

“From me? Why? He has all the others. Sam, Natasha, Clint... Hell, pretty soon I’m gonna have to ship Wanda back to him in a box, she misses Vision so bad. What does it matter to him what I think?”

“Perhaps he idealized you. He appears to have expected a much different response from you over the course of this conflict than what you gave him. He might be having a hard time reconciling that with his image of you.”

Steve raised both hands, palm up, an exasperated gesture.

T’Challa gave a small, wry smile. “Or perhaps you are his favorite.”

Steve blushed hard. Was it possible to feel elated, embarrassed and apprehensive at the same time? “That’s not it. We don’t even like each other. Well... he doesn’t like me, anyway.”

“I think you know that’s not true. Just from the short time I’ve known him, I can tell that Stark once liked you a great deal.”

Rogers had to know _right now_. He liked and respected T’Challa, and didn’t want to lose his friendship. But he _had_ to know. So he trusted and jumped in. “Your Highness, I know I might be taking liberties here. I’m afraid to ask about something. It might not be an appropriate subject for discussion, and I don’t want you to think less of me after, but I don’t have any other...”

“You want to know if it’s possible that Stark loves you.”

Steve froze mid-babble. “How did you know I was gonna ask that?”

“I’ve known what you were going to ask throughout this conversation. Remember what I told you.”

“You’re not offended?”

“Of course not. Steve, our laws on same-sex coupling may not be as progressive as in some western countries, but we are not a backwater. We don’t deny that it exists.”

“Sorry, I...”

“And yes, from the way he’s acted, I think it’s possible that Stark has feelings of that kind for you. Or at least, maybe he once did. Whether that is still the case after all this, I can’t tell.”

“But Tony is crazy about women,” Steve blurted. T’Challa looked at him curiously, and Rogers quickly added, “So am I!”

“It is possible to enjoy both women and men.” T’Challa hesitated, then decided to reciprocate Steve’s trust. “My father did.”

Rogers had never felt so ridiculously old-fashioned.

“The question is how you feel about Stark. Do you wish to be with him? Do you even know?”

“Uh-uh. I... am attracted to him. Have been from the first time I saw a picture of him. I realize that now. But we’re so different. Is there any chance this can even work?”

“You’re not as different as you think. One thing is certain; you both have the same mission. The same goal. You have different ideas about how to achieve it, but that shouldn’t have been as big an obstacle as you both have made of it. The question is, can you gain his trust again? He’s reduced his inner circle since you left. He might not let you back in.”

“Yeah. And he’d be justified.” Steve allowed himself a glimmer of hope. “But, honestly, you really think he might care for me?” He just wanted to hear the king say it again.

“Yes, I think so.”

Then Steve frowned. “God. If that’s true, I’ve been _awful_ to him.”

T’Challa looked at him steadily. “Frankly, Captain, you’ve been awful to him whether it’s true or not.”

  


* * *

  


That evening, Rogers’ mood swung wildly back and forth, between euphoric and terrified. At one time, he had had free access to Tony Stark. And he had chosen mostly to avoid him. Now he longed to see him, to talk to him. Then the next second, the longing was gone and he dreaded even breathing the same air as Stark.

What if T’Challa was wrong, and Tony _did_ hate him? What if he was right, but now it was too late? What if, after Steve had crawled out on a limb, Stark simply laughed at him and called him a queer, or something equally nasty?

Would he even get the chance to find out? Tony was never going to call him on that stupid phone that he’d sent. And Rogers had to face the fact that he was too scared to make the call himself.

At least, thanks to T’Challa, he’d been able to unburden himself a bit. Maybe, he thought, he would be able to get some sleep tonight.

Instead, he had a horrible nightmare.

He and Tony were alone in the middle of a flat, treeless nowhere and they were hunting each other. Neither had their Avengers gear on. Rogers was dressed in army fatigues and Stark was in jeans and a t-shirt. Both were carrying assault rifles. Mortar shells were exploding all around them, filling the air with noise, dirt and smoke.

Rogers knew that the situation was that he had to kill Stark before Stark killed him. The problem was that he couldn’t exactly _see_ where Stark was. Tony seemed to appear out of nowhere, and a split second later he would move out of Steve’s field of vision and disappear before Steve’s eyes could follow. The few times that Steve had been able to draw down on Tony, he couldn’t fire his gun. It would either misfire or jam.

Tony had shot at him numerous times and succeeded in hitting him twice, in the right hip and ankle. _(“Go for his legs!”)_ He could feel deep, fiery pain as he limped across the battlefield. He realized that Stark probably could’ve killed him by now, but he didn’t always fire his gun.

Sometimes he just swore at Steve at the top of his lungs and then moved off. Rogers either couldn’t hear or forgot immediately what he had screamed – he was only aware that it was appalling, and that he himself was becoming completely unhinged. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely keep a grip on the malfunctioning gun and his eyes were burning with hot smoke.

At first he had to strain to see Stark, but soon he was materializing so close that Steve could see his face clearly. Once, in a field after a firefight in Germany, he had seen the face of a dead soldier up close. The face was strange, drawn into a rictus mask, not of fear or pain, but rage. The mouth was twisted in a snarl and the eyes were frozen wide open with completely black corneas and bloody red rims. That was the expression on Tony’s face as he tracked a wounded Rogers across the alien dreamscape.

Steve tried desperately to clear his rifle, pointing it down and pulling the bolt back repeatedly. It wouldn’t respond. When he looked up, Stark was crouching directly in front of him, no more than ten feet away, his rifle aimed at Rogers’ head. The kill shot.

Steve stood stock-still and mouthed “Tony”, but his voice was gone. Stark raised his head and shrieked, “You tried to close me up in the sky, you fucking ingra... !”

Steve lurched up in bed, hyperventilating, his heart beating wildly. He was drenched in sweat from head to toe, and the bed’s sheets and blankets were twisted tightly around his legs.

In the darkness, he didn’t immediately know where he was, and he froze, giving his eyes time to adjust. After a minute of slow, deep breathing, his heartbeat returned to a normal rate and he laid his head back down on the soaked pillow. Drawing his knees up, he ran a hand through his hair, feeling the dampness, and tried to pull himself together.

Had Tony said he had “tried to close him in the sky”? God, it was _back_. And it had taken so long for it to fade the first time.

After the Chitauri had been beaten back, things had settled, and the rest of the Avengers had returned to their lives, Rogers had nowhere to live for a brief period of time, so he spent a few weeks in what had been Stark Tower. The top floors were damaged, but Tony and Pepper Potts were still staying there, as well as Bruce Banner for a time, and Tony had given him several rooms of his own for “as long as he wanted them”.

They were very nice accommodations. Stark was busy with repairs and plans to rebuild, so he was never around. Rogers had all the privacy he wanted. He should’ve been having the time of his life.

He had led the team that defeated an alien army and conceivably saved the human race from enslavement. He had made several new and close friends. Every media outlet wanted to talk to him. Every woman wanted to bed him. He was in newspapers and on magazine covers. And he didn’t have to think about material needs at all, because Stark was paying for everything, no questions asked. But he felt uneasy and useless.

Stark was being so good to him, it made him feel guilty. He didn’t really like Tony Stark, so he didn’t want to accept things from him, even though he needed those things. It felt like he was using Tony, and that wasn’t right. But actually, there was a darker reason.

_“You tried to close me up in the sky!”_

Natasha was waiting for the command, and he had told her, “Close it.” Stark was up there. Was he coming back through? Had they waited long enough?

The Chitauri had all fallen motionless on the ground a few seconds after Stark had disappeared with the warhead. Why had he been in such a hurry to close the portal? He had been overwhelmed and exhausted. They all had been. They weren’t sure there were no more Chitauri coming. And there might have been fallout from the warhead’s explosion heading back through the portal. But had he actually been considering all that?

He knew Stark wouldn’t have survived more than a minute trapped in space between realms. He was essentially sentencing Tony to death. Looking back, he tried to decide... had it been as hard as it should’ve been to make that call? Had he maybe… not... felt the full implication of giving that order... because he didn’t like Tony Stark? Because he wouldn’t have missed Stark as much as one of the others?

A few seconds sooner, and Tony would’ve died unnecessarily. The possibility made him shudder now.

Tony had never called him on it. In fact, he didn’t seem to remember anything after he released the warhead and blacked out. According to him, he just woke up on the ground. They had thought he was dead. Rogers felt cold ice in his chest as he looked down at Stark’s still face. _(“Haven’t you ever lost a soldier before?”)_ Then the Hulk had roared and Tony had jumped, and the world had started turning again.

But guilt stalked Steve at night. And the more accommodating Tony had been, the worse he had felt. It had taken a long time but slowly, slowly, he convinced himself that he had made the best decision he could at the time, given the limited info he had. The guilt faded. And he had resumed his mild animosity toward Tony, though he made more of an effort to temper it. He had almost started to consider Tony an ally, if not quite a friend.

_“… you fucking ingra…”_

That word was “ingrate”. Where had that… ? He had used that word today talking with T’Challa. That was where dream Stark had gotten it. And it made him wonder…

Why hadn’t he moved into the suite Tony had built for him in Avengers Tower? He had told himself he missed Brooklyn, and that was true enough, but the Brooklyn he missed was long gone. The entire borough had transformed itself into something alien. He wouldn’t have even recognized the neighborhood he'd come from, if he hadn’t already known where it was. And the people had changed with it. It was as foreign as the rest of Steve’s current world. If anything, Avengers Tower was more familiar to him now than any place else.

So why not move in? Steve didn’t want to think of what the real reasons said about him. Because he didn’t want to give Tony the satisfaction of providing a home for him? Because he didn't want to admit to himself that he needed anything that Tony could give? Because he felt that accepting might mean Tony was more of a “man” than he was? Steve cringed. Was he really that _small_?

He was consumed with shame. He realized he had made up a whole fairy tale in his head about how Stark used his money to lord it over the rest of them and show off. Actually, Stark had never mentioned Rogers owing him a personal debt of any kind, and he had no idea how much Stark shelled out to finance the Avengers Initiative. None of them did. Oh, Stark had made a joke once to Maria Hill about paying and “making everyone look cooler”, but that was the only time he had ever mentioned the money he spent.

They all just took it for granted that expenses would be paid, and Tony let them. And then they needled him (good-naturedly, but still) about how arrogant and self-centered he was.

Then, the first chance they’d gotten, almost all of them had taken Steve’s side against him. Because Steve was Captain America, the ultimate righteous man. And Tony Stark was just some rich asshole they tolerated.

How had Tony not hated the whole bunch of them?

Steve bolted out of bed. He had to make everything right _immediately_ , he thought, or he couldn’t live with himself through the night. What time was it in New York? He grabbed the phone that was his lifeline to Stark and dialed. And it rang forever and nobody answered. Of course.

He went into the bathroom, trying to calm himself. In the mirror, he caught a glimpse of his exhausted face and messy hair. What he saw stopped him cold.

He looked _old_. Or at least, older than he ever had. His mouth was drawn and he had dark circles under his eyes. The whites of his eyes were pink and watering. His cheeks were starting to look hollow. Like Tony’s, he thought. And in his overnight stubble – was he imagining it? – he thought he saw a hint of gray.

He splashed cold water on his face and shook the drops off like a dog. He was done with this. He needed to be anywhere else.

He threw on sweats and ran to the palace grounds. It was about 15 kilometers away, but he didn't even remember the run when he arrived. His mind was skipping in place, like an old vinyl record. _(Gotta see Stark, gotta see Stark… )_ When he got there, everything was locked up for the night. So he sat on the grass and waited. Got up and ran several circles around the building, looking up for lights in the royal quarters every time he passed. Sat and waited some more. Ran some more. And after what seemed like a thousand lifetimes, the dawn guard appeared at the gate and let him enter.

A short wait, and then T’Challa came down to the front hall, still in his nightclothes. He looked tired and concerned.

Steve shrugged helplessly, with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

“What is it, Steve?” T’Challa waved him into a small waiting area.

“Please, Your Highness. I have to talk to him. As soon as possible.” Steve was frantic. “Get me in a room with him. Alone. However you can. Please. Do this for me and I will never bother you for anything else again.”

T’Challa knew immediately who he was talking about. 


	4. Standoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony finally meet and a long argument ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to limit the speechifying. But Steve wouldn't listen. I needed him to explain his feelings for Bucky, and he had to get pretty verbose. Oh, well.

London.

That was where Stark finally agreed to meet Steve. He wouldn’t come to Wakanda. Wanted neutral territory. Steve liked England, anyway. Reminded him of Peggy.

T’Challa had procured a small cottage for them on the outskirts. Rogers was glad for the distance. He was hoping to avoid any intrusions that might occur. And there was a chance things could get loud.

The king had business of his own in England, so he accompanied Steve on the plane and tried to keep Steve’s expectations down. Stark had been very reluctant to come. He promised only to show up for the meeting, at the designated spot. He didn’t guarantee that he would stay, or that he would listen to what Steve had to say. He just said he would enter, and that was it.

“He is still very dejected,” T’Challa told Rogers. “He will most likely want to fight. He feels he was made to look weak and that often causes men like him to lash out. Don’t take his bait.”

And then he issued a warning that had startled Steve. “As the party who persuaded him to meet with you, he is under my protection. You have superhuman strength. Stark does not. Therefore, if he is physically harmed in any way during this encounter, I will hold you personally responsible. Even if he is the instigator. And I am not a man to be trifled with.”

“No. Of course not,” Steve had spluttered out. How badly had his reputation been damaged? Did T’Challa really think he would behave like a common thug? 

So he had entered the cottage and dropped his overnight bag on the floor. It was three rooms, sparsely furnished, with a small kitchen, and a single bed in the main room.

Stark, of course, was late. He was going to make Steve wait. Rogers was determined to control his temper. This was the kind of petty thing Stark _would_ do to get the upper hand. Fine. He would wait. And he would not let it rile him. He could afford to give Stark this.

After all, he had won the fight. He had left Tony defeated in Siberia, unable to follow he and Bucky as they escaped. He had managed to look nonchalant, as he shrugged off Howard’s shield like it meant nothing to him. And he hadn’t signed the damn Accords, which is what Tony had asked of him, as a personal favor.

A sudden, quasi-conscious warning sounded in his mind: “Enjoy feeling superior while you can, Hot Shot. You’re going to be _miserable_ when he doesn’t show.”

Rogers remembered the pens.

That was the last time he and Stark had talked privately. The whole encounter had been a disaster, and he now knew it had been his fault. When Tony had said, “Wanna see something cool?” Steve was prepared to see the latest Stark wondertoy.

Instead, Tony had showed him two antique pens, from Howard’s collection, that he said FDR had used to sign the Atlantic Charter. Weird, Rogers had thought. Stark doesn’t care about history – why would he think this would impress me?

And he had right away gone negative, saying something about the Atlantic Charter dragging America into WWII. (Why had he said that? He wouldn't have enlisted if he hadn't believed the war to be just.)

He realized now that Tony was trying to connect with him through his past, by bringing an artifact from Steve’s time and tying it to Howard. God knows, he had never had any luck connecting with Steve in the present. He must have put a lot of thought into that gesture. Steve couldn’t remember offhand how that conversation had ended, other than badly.

Oh, yeah, the thing with Wanda being confined. Had that really been all that important? What did he care if Wanda couldn’t go grocery shopping? She would’ve been happier stuck in Stark’s gilded tower than she was now in a strange room in Wakanda, almost catatonic with depression.

But that had been the excuse he’d used to toss the pen back on the table, and say something snotty about not wanting to break up the set. Almost literally, throwing Tony’s olive branch back in his face.

It seemed to him like a different person had done that. That kind of behavior was _so far_ from who he was. So far from who he wanted to be. He was a hypocrite, he told himself. He would’ve never been so dismissive to Natasha, to Thor, to Banner. But it was okay as long as it was Tony? He won’t show up here, thought Rogers. Why should he?

There was a knock on the door, almost like a retort. Steve jolted out of his thoughts and tried to steady his nerves as he got up to open it.

Tony Stark stood outside on the walk. He was trying to look indifferent, but when Steve had opened the door, he had jerked up slightly, although he covered it up immediately. He was alone, carrying a small duffle bag.

Had he always been that small? Steve wondered. Tony was a short guy, but now he looked tiny. He had lost weight, and his face looked somewhat gaunt. He was wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt with the name of some band on it that Steve, of course, wasn’t familiar with. His hair was tousled up, as if he had been driving with his car windows open, and Steve could see the small amount of gray at his temples. He was wearing dark sunglasses.

Steve couldn't believe how beautiful he was.

Both men stood stock-still, looking at each other. Steve finally remembered to breathe.

“Tony. Come in.” He stood aside to let the other man through.

Stark entered the room and raked his eyes around. “Quaint,” he said dismissively. “Wish I’d known we were going camping.”

“T’Challa got it for me. I told him something not too fancy, with privacy.”

Tony curled his lip slightly. “You must’ve been convincing.”

Steve smiled nervously. “Have a seat. I’m glad you came.” He sat down in one of the chairs and tried to gesture Stark into another.

Tony didn’t sit. “I told T’Challa I would show up, so I am a man of my word.” He looked down at Steve. “What do you want, Rogers?”

So it was like that, huh? Steve decided to start with the straightforward stuff. “Wanda’s not doing so well. She’s shut herself in her room and won’t eat. I was hoping we could figure out a way to get her home before it’s too late.”

Tony shrugged. “She can come home anytime she likes.”

“You know what I mean.” Steve used a sterner tone. “A way that doesn’t involve her being thrown in jail for the rest of her life. I’d like to avoid that, if you don’t mind.”

“Why are you talking to me? It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“I know you helped the others. We heard from Natasha for awhile, she told us the details. She says you have Ross’s ear about this.”

“For someone who works as a spy, Romanoff sometimes has a very big mouth,” Tony said, with irritation. “Okay. Let’s say I don’t _want_ this to have anything to do with me. She’s not my problem.”

“Why would you single her out like that?”

“Why would I not single her out?” snapped Tony. “She’s dangerous. And she’s reckless. And when someone tries to help, she goes out of her way to screw them over.”

“She wasn’t trying to screw you over, Tony.”

“Are you completely gone? That’s exactly what she was trying to do.”

“It was my fault.” Tony scowled, but Steve raised a preemptive hand. “I sent Clint in after her. He wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t, and she wouldn’t have left on her own.”

Stark rolled his eyes behind his shades. “I know that. I’m talking about the first time.”

“What first time?”

“She was partly responsible for Ultron. I took the heat, fine, I created him. But I look her in the eye and we both know what the truth is. And she lives in my building, and eats my food, and walks around like she’s completely blameless. But I’m expected to atone for the rest of my life. By you and the rest of them. And _her_.

"And she hasn’t said more than maybe two words to me the whole time. And they weren’t the two words she needed to say.

"Then all I ask of her is that she stay put, 'til I can calm down the most recent shitstorm she's caused. Not only does she not do that, she attacks Vision and she wrecks my building _again_. And I get the patented Steve Rogers ‘I’m so disappointed with you, Stark’ lecture like I’m the problem. _Again!_ ”

Tony took a deep breath, trying to regain control. “She fought on your side, she’s your problem.”

At least I’ve got him talking, thought Steve. I can work with this.

“She’s a problem because I made her one.” Rogers forced his voice to remain calm. “I’m not saying that to play the martyr. Clint told me she hesitated. And he laid a guilt trip on her to get her to change her mind. Because I told him to pull out all the stops. If she’d followed her instinct, she wouldn’t have gotten involved at all.”

“No one can make her do what she doesn’t want to do," Stark snarled. "She took down Vision without even breaking a sweat. I've got nothing for her. The army can take her out with Hellfires, for all I care.”

A quick wave of fury washed over Rogers. He wanted to snap, “Yeah? Is that how Vision feels?” But then he said to himself, "Communicate, don’t retaliate."

It was something he had come up with on the plane, to keep himself from being drawn into an argument. It was totally corny, and he would never have admitted it to anyone, but having a little catchphrase to remind himself of the mission had always helped him in tight spots. Something he'd started doing way back in basic training. And it worked this time.

Steve pulled his perfect, impassive face into its most earnest expression. “Tony. She’s only nineteen.” He so wanted Stark to take off those stupid shades, so he could look into his eyes. “She lost both her parents when she was a young kid. She watched her country get wiped off the map. The only family she had was her twin brother, and then she loses him, too.”

Tony was quiet. He may actually be listening, thought Steve.

“You think she walked away scot-free. She didn’t, she’s suffering. She feels terrible about what happened at Lagos. And she has nobody. But she was starting to have a connection with Vision. She misses him. I’d bet he misses her.” Steve took a step closer. “C’mon, Tony, what good does tormenting her do for anyone?”

Stark stood still for a minute. Finally he broke the silence. “I don’t know that I can do anything, even if I wanted to. The _public_ doesn’t like her. They don’t trust her. And who can blame them.”

Steve cocked his head. “Most of the public likes Iron Man, though. They trust _him_. He can bring them around.”

Stark shot Rogers a scornful look. He thought Steve was working him, but Rogers wasn’t being completely insincere. He gave Stark a few minutes to think.

Finally, Tony started. “Possibly...” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “Look, there would have to be very strict conditions. If she thought her movements were restricted before, that was nothing compared to what they’re gonna want now. But maybe I could propose... If she was under the constant supervision of a guardian... until she could convince Ross she could be trusted...”

“Great!” Steve jumped on it. “You would be ideal for that.”

Tony glared at him. “Not me. I was thinking Vision. He’s impartial and logical.” Then he remembered what had happened with Rhodes. “Sort of. More than anyone else, anyway. And he would have her best interests at heart. I couldn’t guarantee that I would. He could report to me and I wouldn’t have to have direct contact with her.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I can propose it. I’m not saying I can get it done. But the first time she gives him crap or otherwise fucks up, Ross and his bunch are going to be on her like a pack of wolves. And I will open the door and get out of their way.”

“That’s all we can ask.”

Stark gave an irritated sigh and looked at Steve for what seemed like a long time. “So. That’s that. Have a nice life. Or don't.” He moved toward the door.

“Not yet,” Steve snapped, then shrugged apologetically when Tony turned and glowered. “Sorry. Just... I need to say some things.”

Tony gave a look of studied apathy. “Ooohh-kay,” he drew out.

Steve cleared his throat. “That whole last thing between us, in Siberia, that was really bad. That was badly done.”

Tony gave him a withering 'Oh, really?' look, but remained silent.

“I need a chance to clear things up.” Rogers suddenly felt very exposed. He had to avoid blathering. He tried to think of the right phrase to use. A relevant phrase. “I need closure.”

“Closure,” Tony repeated, with quiet but audible sarcasm.

Steve sighed impatiently. “Look. Tony… Could you _please_... sit _down_?”

Tony crossed his arms defiantly, then settled himself haphazardly onto one of the chairs across from Steve, attempting to look bored.

Steve started again. “You were trying to help when you followed us to Russia. And you were ambushed. I can’t imagine what that was like.”

Tony remained stone-faced.

“I loved your father. He was one of my best friends. I owe most of what I’ve been able to accomplish to him. I would never have let anyone hurt him if I could help it.”

He tried to hold Tony’s gaze the whole time, but it was hard not to squirm. “At first, I didn’t know your folks were murdered. Zola hinted to me that they were, but how can you trust anything a man like _that_ says? And then when I started to realize it was true, I had no idea that it was Bucky who did it.”

Steve could feel Tony’s look darkening into a murderous glare behind his shades. He pushed on quickly.

“I had time to adjust to the truth. That Bucky was responsible. You didn’t. So I can’t fault you for your reaction. That was a terrible way to find out.”

What he was saying seemed so inadequate, and he couldn’t think of how to improve it. He was stranded. He tried to begin again. “I… ”

Tony interrupted. “Tell me about this vast, enduring friendship you had with my dad.” His voice dripped derision.

Steve ignored his tone. He would play this straight. “What would you like to know?”

“Well, you said he helped you accomplish a bunch of crap. What else?”

“He just... helped me. If he could do something to ease my way, he did it. I took it for granted, I know. I was young then. Believe it or not.” He gave Tony a small, self-deprecating smile. Tony did not smile back.

“He made everything look so easy. Everything he invented, everything he gave... Like it was effortless. Like he was so rich and brilliant, it cost him nothing. I know now that wasn’t true, that it cost him a lot. I guess in some ways... I acted like a kid? With a parent?”

Now Tony did smile. An angry, sardonic smile. “Oh, that's so sweet. The son he never had.”

Steve had obviously poked a raw nerve. He quickly backtracked.

“No, not really. More like... a big brother? Look, I don’t know. I just know he was a very close friend. And I miss him. I’ll always miss him. I… ”

“What a sucker,” Stark sneered.

“Excuse me?” This was going wrong very quickly.

“Got everything you needed out of him, didn't you, Rogers.” Tony face was impenetrable now, and his voice was menacing. “The tech, the mentoring, the _financing_... Good ol’ Howard Stark. Your great friend. Until James Barnes slithers out of the grave. Then fuck ol’ Howard.” And now he removed the shades. “Guess I was just the next mark on the list, huh?”

Rogers couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Tony was calling him a _parasite_!

All his life, Steve had tried to do the right thing, the moral thing. His behavior throughout this conflict had felt very aberrant to him. He had lied to Tony, and he had attacked him. Violently. But the circumstances had been extreme. He had panicked when he believed Bucky might be killed. Hadn’t Stark realized that? Had Tony simply wiped from his heart everything that Rogers had stood for before? He was truly offended now.

“Jesus, Tony!” he snapped. “Howard was not a mark! Neither are you. _I don’t use people._ And you better remember that!” Steve was gripping the arms of the wooden chair so hard he could feel them begin to crack in his fists.

Stark's face was no more than a couple of feet away, and Rogers caught the faint scent of lemongrass, from some fancy shampoo he always used. His glittering brown eyes looked strange, almost completely black in the dim light of the cottage. Steve had always liked how large Tony’s eyes were, but they were absolutely chilling now. Enormous and furious, like they wanted to jump from his face and attack. _That_ was an expression Steve was certain he had never seen before. A tremor raced down his neck. Was he a little... scared? Of this short, physically untrained man?

A man who looked at him like that would kill him now if given the chance, thought Rogers. If he had his armor. Does he have his armor? Steve couldn’t see any trace of it, but who knew what ingenious new ways Tony Stark had invented to access his armor, after these three months apart? Steve mustered every ounce of his anger and stubbornness, and held his ground. And Stark held his, pinning Steve with that hateful stare.

Rogers took a deep breath. Communicate, don’t retaliate.

“Look.” Steve released the arm grips, and opened his fists. “I owe you an apology, I know that. That’s the real reason I asked you to meet me. I never should’ve kept what happened to your mom and dad from you. I was a coward.”

“Damn right,” Stark growled under his breath. But... did he ease that killer gaze, just a tiny bit? Steve hoped it wasn't just wishful thinking.

“You and I don’t have deep discussions about things. I’m not good at talking about my feelings. That’s a leftover from my day. Men weren’t supposed to talk about how they felt, it was considered showing weakness.”

Steve saw Tony curl his lip in contempt.

“It’s stupid, I know. But it’s hard-wired now. I’m trying to change it, but it’ll probably never go away completely. Doesn’t mean I don’t _have_ feelings.”

Tony’s eyes were hard, but the rage had definitely faded, and Steve relaxed just a bit.

“Listen, Tony. You seem to want to force me to choose between you and Howard and Bucky, or something like that. And you’re thinking, ‘There’s no choice here, he’s a murderer, he murdered my father, who you keep saying was your friend.’ And you’re correct. To you, that’s all he is. A murderer. But maybe you don’t understand what he is to me. Not your fault – I never bothered to tell you.”

That was probably the longest continuous thought he had ever voiced to Stark. And thankfully, Tony wasn’t trying to interrupt.

“I lost both my parents, too. Not in a sudden, horrible way, like you. But I was younger. I had no money. I was small, weak. I didn’t even have the army then.

"I would’ve been completely alone without Bucky. He _was_ my family. We went to school together as kids and we fought side by side in the war. And then he was gone. And I had no family.

"Just Peggy and Howard, and the rest of the Howling Commandos. And even they were gone when I thawed out."

Steve sighed. "I was an outsider. I still am an outsider.”

“Yeah, I read your letter,” Tony said contemptuously, under his breath. It was almost a hiss. Steve pretended he hadn’t heard.

“My life before the ice was beginning to seem like a dream. Something I imagined. There was no Steve Rogers anymore. There was only Captain America. That’s not _me_ , that is a made-up identity. And this is a borrowed body. There was no one alive who remembered the real me.

"My memories sometimes feel like they belong to someone else. I look in history books, and they _tell me_ I was there. But that just makes me feel like a wasp in amber. Everybody I meet from now on, they will want to know Captain America. Not Steve Rogers.”

Steve was not one for self-pity. This was the first time he could remember admitting his unhappiness to anyone but the military therapists Fury had hooked him up with, and he’d even held back with them. He felt embarrassed doing what he considered whining. But he had to do the best he could to make Tony understand.

“When I learned Bucky was alive… ” Steve softened his voice. “Peggy was a godsend. I wouldn’t have survived that first year without her. But she was sick. Her mind was fragile. I couldn’t burden her with my problems.

"But I can be myself with Bucky. I don’t have to put up a front. He understands exactly where I’ve come from, because he went through it with me. And he’s the only one now. I can’t lose him again. Bucky still existing means Steve Rogers still exists.” Then Steve remembered. “I mean, if I can get him back to the way he was. And I thought you might… ”

“Were you pissed off? At all?” Tony asked abruptly, in a flat voice.

Steve looked puzzled. “Pissed off?”

“At Barnes, when you found out he murdered my dad. Did you want to kill him? Even for a nanosecond?”

So Tony wasn’t finished throwing grenades. How could Steve answer without ruining things for good?

“Or did all you think about was keeping the truth from me, so he’d be safe?”

Steve proceeded slowly. “I loved your dad, Tony.” He exhaled audibly, trying to control his temper. “Everything I said about him before, how good he was to me, our friendship, that was all true.”

Then he shot Stark a harsh glare. “And all that crap you said? About him being a sucker or whatever? I never thought anything like that. That’s all you.”

He decided, then and there, to tell Tony everything, even if it crushed him. “What I said to you in Siberia... about not knowing it was Bucky? That was true. At first.”

Stark glared at the floor. Steve crouched in his chair, so he could make eye contact again when Tony lifted his face.

“It’s the truth, Tony. I wasn’t sure. After he dragged me out of the Potomac and disappeared for the second time, I was certain he _hadn’t_ done it.” He remembered the endless search he and Sam had conducted for Barnes.

“It took time for me to actually work it out. After awhile, I knew. But... I had time to adjust to the truth. I had time to process my grief for Howard.”

Tony’s expression was darkening again. Better to tell the rest quickly, thought Steve, like pulling off a bandage.

“So no, I wasn’t pissed at him. When I saw him next, after Zemo framed him... by then, I knew it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t Bucky back then. He was just a tool of Hydra. I blame _them_.” Rogers pleaded with his eyes for Tony’s understanding.

Instead, Tony looked at him vacantly and shrugged. “Well, that’s an answer,” was all he said. And he shifted to get up. Steve couldn’t let him leave. Not yet.

“Why don’t you talk to Bucky yourself?”

Tony dropped back down like Steve had physically pushed him. “What?!”

“You’ve never even spoken to him. I can bring him out of cryo. I can get him to talk to you. Give him a chance to apologize. He feels terrible about your parents.”

“Gimme a break, Rogers! _Christ!_ ” Stark jumped up from the chair. “Barnes feels terrible, Wanda feels terrible... You know who really feels terrible? _Me!_ About this whole goddamn thing!

"Barnes murdered the only person who ever truly loved me. He could've shot her, it would've been quicker. But he choked her with his bare hand. He wanted to make sure she knew she was going to die. That's the act of a cold-blooded sadist, not some poor, brainwashed victim. Imagine how terrified she must have been at that moment!”

He grasped his forehead with his hand, like he could squeeze the dreadful thought out of his mind. Then he shook his head frantically.

“No. There’s nothing he can say to me that won’t make me hate him.” He raised his head and looked daggers at Steve. “And you can’t protect him forever.”

Steve was taken aback. That was a _real_ threat. Rage washed through him as he stood to face down Tony. Once more, he thought to himself, Communicate, don’t retaliate. This time, it didn’t work.

“Look, Stark. I can’t understand how you feel. It wasn’t my mom and dad on that screen.” Steve was practically shouting now. “But you killing Bucky, that won’t help. Not in the long run.”

Tony turned his face away. He didn’t want to listen anymore.

“It _won’t_ ,” Steve repeated. “It’ll feel good for a hot second, sure. Bloodlust always does. But once it cools, your life won't be one goddamned bit better. You'll just go right back to rattling around your mansion, miserable and alone."

Stark turned and met Steve's eyes, and his face was almost amused. "Yeah, about that… Where are you getting this delusion that I'm miserable and alone whenever I'm not graced with your fascinating presence? I had plenty of company before I met you. _Attractive_ company. And I can have it again whenever I choose. I won't be lonely, so you can put that patronizing thought out of its misery. Or keep thinking it, if it makes you feel better about yourself."

Rogers ran his hand through his hair, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Tony… " The weariness in his voice was obvious. "I really didn't come here to fight. Really. I'm trying to explain myself, my actions." He gestured helplessly with his hands.

Tony's reply was barely above a whisper. "Yeah, well, you started it." He realized he sounded childish, and looked mildly flustered. Steve thought he saw an opening and tried again.

“I’ve known Barnes all my life. He was just a soldier. A regular guy trying to do the right thing for his country. Like we all were then. What Hydra turned him into after that... ” Steve took a shaky breath. “Tony. The guy I knew, he wouldn’t have killed your father.” Steve steeled his gaze. _“He just wouldn’t have.”_

Tony looked at him for a moment. Then he put his shades back on. “Is that all?” he asked.

Steve looked at the ceiling and gave an exasperated huff. “Okay, let’s try this,” he said sharply. “I’ll go back to Ross and I’ll take the blame. He can put me on trial, throw me in jail, whatever. Add any conditions you want, Stark. I’ll come quietly. But Bucky stays in Wakanda until they can help him. Turning him over... that’s the only condition that’s off the table.”

Tony’s expression and voice were ice cold. “And what if that’s the only condition I’ll agree to?”

All the hope drained from Steve's heart. His head felt suddenly very heavy; it was an effort just to hold it up. He had misjudged this man. He had thought they had some kind of connection. Mysterious and fleeting, maybe, but a connection all the same. He was wrong. So he would talk to Stark like he would to any stranger.

“Why would you do that?” He tried to sound detached. “The only reason you’d do that would be to hurt me."

He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. "I thought I knew you. You’ve got a lot of bad traits and you’ve done some rotten things, but you don’t _enjoy_ hurting people. So what is it? Try being honest for once.”

Stark gave him a smirk so caustic it was worthy of the Red Skull. “I guess I’m just a _bad person_ ,” he said.

Rogers straightened to his full height, and mustered his most impassive expression. He was once again Captain America. “Then go to hell,” he replied. “We’re done here.”

Stark scoffed. “You’ll never be able to come back home. You’ll be stuck in Africa forever, with a refrigerated assassin.”

“Then so be it.”

“You’d deep-six your life for him?”

“I can’t betray him.”

“But you betrayed me. And then you almost killed me.”

“But I didn’t.”

Stark almost seemed be pleading with him now. “He tried to kill you! Plenty of times! And Fury. And Nat.”

“That _wasn’t_ him. And I’ll stand by that ‘til the end. Tony… ” Steve took one last shot. “I’ve changed so much since they found me. I’ve had to adjust to a world I don’t fit into. I’ve tried as hard as I can to remain true to myself – to who I really am. It hasn’t been possible.

"I’m not entirely proud of who I’ve become. Sometimes, when I look back at who I was, I wonder if _that_ Steve Rogers would even recognize _this_ one. I’m holding onto that skinny kid with my fingernails. I kind of liked him. Throwing Bucky to the wolves would put a nail in that coffin. There would be nothing left of that kid.”

He gave a long, exhausted sigh. “Can’t do it, Tony.” He picked up his overnight bag. "So I guess this is goodbye." He stepped aside and waited for Stark to exit first.

Tony didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he studied Steve’s face carefully. Then his whole aspect visibly changed. He lowered his shoulders and relaxed his face. After taking a deep breath, he unclenched his jaw and murmured to himself quietly, “okay.”

Then he looked up at Steve. “Okay. I agree.”

“Agree to what?” Steve was instantly confused – and distrustful.

“All of it.” Tony looked relieved, if somewhat distraught. “I’ll give you what you want.”

“What part?”

“Whatever part!” Tony sounded aggravated now, as if Steve was acting obtuse just to make him repeat himself. “I’ll talk to Ross about Wanda. I’ll try to get him to agree to some sort of plea-bargain for Barnes. And I’ll start negotiating to get you home.”

Rogers felt for a second like he might black out. He rested a hand on the back of one of the chairs to steady himself.

“Is this some kind of bad joke, Stark?”

“A joke? No, it’s not a joke.”

“You’d do all that?”

Tony sighed. “Sure,” he said, with weary resignation.

Steve couldn’t believe it. “Where did this come from, all of a sudden?”

“Oh, I pretty much decided before I got here. Naturally, I was reserving the right to change my mind if you pissed me off too much.”

“Then why did you put me through all that? Why did you put us both through it?”

“I needed to know where I stood.” Stark gave him an anguished smile. Steve felt that, for once, he was glimpsing Tony’s soul.

“You ganged up and turned on me, the whole bunch of you. All my so-called friends... Other than Rhodes, the people that stood up for me, Vision, the Panther, the Spiderling – they're all outsiders. And they gave me the benefit of the doubt.

"But our original team, that I helped build… I've been dealing with betrayal most of my life. But this? The whole team? I didn't expect it… " He looked up at the ceiling. Opening up was not one of Tony's things, and Steve could see him fighting to maintain his composure. "Okay. Maybe from the rest, not such a surprise… But you?" He unconsciously touched Steve's chest with his fingertips for emphasis, then withdrew his hand like it had been burned. "I didn't expect this from _you_. I didn't think you were capable of it." He looked into Steve's face. "I won't forget it… " He broke off the thought and clenched his fist. Steve saw him visibly close off his expression, like a computer rebooting itself.

When he spoke again, he was smooth and glib. “I had to get some things off my chest. I’m entitled to a little payback. Right?” Then he rolled his eyes, as if he was embarrassed for sounding so maudlin. Rogers saw it for the camouflage it was.

Tony scooped his duffle bag up from the floor. Steve’s heart felt like it would explode. He was flooded with impulses, but remained rooted to the ground.

He wanted to yell and cuss at Tony, to declare undying gratitude, to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness, to grab and shake him until those stupid sunglasses fell off his beautiful face... and he did nothing. He couldn’t move.

“So,” Tony continued. “Better get ready. A lot of shit needs to fall into place for this to happen, so don’t get carried away. But I’ve read the room. America wants its Avengers back. And world opinion is softening.

"What you’ve got to do now is not screw things up. You will have to sign some form of the Accords. Changes can be made so you feel more comfortable about them, but you will have to sign _something_. And if anyone asks, _try_ to act contrite.”

He grinned sardonically. “The rest of the team will be overjoyed to get their fearless leader back. With luck, you can pick up the reigns from exactly where you dropped them.”

Steve snapped out of his stupor. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you still with us?”

“Nope, I’m gone. I’ve done everything I’m gonna do.”

Rogers took a step closer. “But we need you.”

Tony laughed. “Not even close. Natasha, Clint, the rest, they voted with their feet. I can't trust them anymore. I’m out. It’s a relief, actually.”

No, no, no, no. Steve’s inner voice was stuck in a loop. _I just got you back._

Tony reached for the knob and opened the door, before glancing at Steve quizzically. “What’s wrong, Cap? You look like somebody shot your dog. Why aren’t you dancing a jig? You have proven your prowess as a negotiator.”

 _Cap._ The nickname. The friend name. Tony hadn’t called him that since he’d shown up in Siberia, offering assistance to him and Bucky. A memory now soaked in regret.

Stark stepped outside into the sun. The light reflected off his shades, and illuminated the lighter browns of his dark hair. He looked back at Steve and flashed his halogen smile. The sad expression was gone and the mask was firmly back in place. He was dazzling.

“Once again, Captain America gets everything he wants,” he taunted. One last parting jab. Then he held up a hand in farewell.

Steve moved as if he had been zapped by electricity. He grabbed Tony’s hand in a bruising grip.

Tony snapped his head around. Steve looked straight in his eyes and growled, “Not everything.”

Then he jerked Tony back into the cottage and slammed the door closed.


	5. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony finally admit their feelings for each other. Then some other stuff happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long, explicit smut in this chapter. Lots of description and coarse language. Tried not to overdo it, but probably did. If you don't like that sort of thing, you won't like this.
> 
> You have been warned.

Rogers and Stark faced each other just inside the front room. Steve was holding Tony’s wrist so tightly he knew it had to hurt. Stark thought his arm might break. He tried to twist it out of Rogers’ grip, but Steve held tight.

Tony looked into his face with alarm. “You’re mad now? Why?” he asked, trying wildly to yank his arm away.

Steve pulled him closer and Tony froze, too shocked to move. Steve lifted his other hand and removed Tony’s shades, tossing them onto a nearby table. Then he touched Tony’s hair.

“What are you doing?” Tony muttered, jerking his head back.

Steve had always noticed just how much taller he was than Tony when they stood close together. He had to look almost directly down at him, and he could tell that made Tony uncomfortable. He would try to compensate by putting on (what he thought was) a fierce expression. It never failed to disarm Steve, though not in the way Tony wanted.

Rogers remembered what it was like to be short, how insignificant it made him feel. Stark was attempting the fierce face now. It made Steve want to put his arms around Tony and engulf him. Not Stark’s intended effect.

Rogers smiled slightly and loosened his grip on Stark’s arm. Slowly, he moved his hand to the side of Tony’s head and cupped his face, noticing the way it fit perfectly in his large palm. Stark squirmed and looked thoroughly perplexed, but he didn’t pull completely away.

“What is it, Steve?” he said with concern.

 _Steve._ It was the first time he could recall Tony using his given name. Rogers practically shivered with delight. Stark obviously thought he had lost his mind. Well, he’s not wrong, thought Steve. He studied Tony’s face like he was hypnotized. Tony stared back in confusion.

Steve released Tony’s wrist and moved his hand to the other side of Tony’s head, and held his face with both hands, staring into his eyes. He could tell Stark was barely controlling the urge to tear his head away and flee the cottage as fast as his feet would carry him. Stark’s pulse was racing so quickly that Steve could feel it in the heel of one of his palms, where it rested against Tony’s neck. Stay still, Steve begged him silently, just for a few more seconds. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips against Stark’s, in a gentle closed-mouth kiss.

Rogers shut his eyes, trying to concentrate on Tony’s mouth and his reaction. Tony's lips were dry. Warm. He smelled of lemongrass, soap, faint perspiration, and just the slightest scent of... coffee? His facial hair felt odd against Steve’s mouth, but not unpleasant. Steve quickly decided he liked it. _Exotic_ , he thought. Stark's mouth didn't move. He didn't reciprocate at all. Steve wasn’t sure he was even breathing.

This had been a mistake. He had jumped in with both feet and he had been mistaken. But he refused to regret doing it. This had been his last chance. Tony was leaving the Avengers. Steve would never have seen him again anyway, so nothing had really been lost. He would grieve losing Tony as he had Bucky, and try to carry on. He would wait and hope for something or someone. What or who that would be, he had no clue.

He broke the kiss and stepped back.

  


* * *

  


Tony stood there, stunned. Then he blinked his eyes hard, like he thought he might be hallucinating. “What... was that?!” he asked Steve incredulously.

“Uh, sorry,” Steve stammered. “I had to try... before you left and I couldn’t… ” He found he couldn’t finish the thought.

Tony scrunched up his forehead. “Is that some kind of weird payback… for… what? Saying I'd help Barnes?”

Steve heaved a defeated sigh. “No, for Christ’s sake. I’ve wanted to do that for awhile.”

“Since when?” Tony was completely befuddled. “Aren’t you straight? And... you kind of hate me!”

“No I don’t,” Steve said wearily. “I thought, all this time – I thought maybe there was something between us.”

Tony’s eyes were huge. “There is!” he replied angrily. “And it’s completely one-sided. That side being _mine!_ ”

Adrenaline flooded through Steve so quickly his vision briefly clouded over. “Well, it would seem that’s not the case,” he said, sheepishly.

Stark was thoroughly baffled. “Are you okay, Cap? You're malfunctioning or something. Maybe all this pressure is getting to you or… ”

“This isn’t new, Tony. I think I’ve been wanting this… you... for a long time.”

Now Stark looked fed-up, as well as baffled. “You’ve been a total shit to me from the minute we met.”

“I know. Sorry. When I found out Howard had family – I really wanted you to like me. And then when you didn’t, I started... I wanted you to like me so much, I started hating you.”

“What made you think I didn’t like you?”

“I don’t know. The way you’re always mocking me, taking jabs at me. ‘Capsicle’ and all that... making me out to be a stick-in-the-mud… ”

“Are you telling me Germany lost a perfectly good airport because you didn’t think my jokes were funny, Rogers?”

“I just... it seemed like you had nothing but contempt for me.”

Tony’s mouth fell open. “I asked you to move in with me!”

“You let all of us move in, if we wanted. I thought it was a team-building thing.”

“The only team I cared about building was the one with you and me. Sure, I like having the others around. No sweat. But I let everyone move in because I thought you’d be more comfortable with everyone there. Instead, I got everyone else and no _you_.”

“I figured you thought I was a giant bore.”

“Well, it _is_ boring when someone's always up on their high horse, passing judgement. I couldn’t even unwind in my own home, with your eyes on me all the time, judging my every move. I nearly went insane."

“That’s _not_ why my eyes were on you, Stark. I was looking at your face.” Steve could feel himself blush furiously, but he refused to look away. “I like your face,” he muttered.

Then, "I thought you were supposed to have game, Mr. Playboy Philanthropist Whatever! But you can't tell the difference between a _judging_ look and an _admiring_ one?"

For maybe the first time in his life, Tony was speechless. Touché, thought Steve. That felt good!

It took Stark a moment to rebound. Finally, he rolled his eyes in frustration. “Jesus, Cap. We’re like a couple of idiots from a bad rom-com.”

“I guess we can’t start over, can we? Too much water under the bridge?”

Tony broke his gaze and looked off, lost in thought. Then his expression softened. He pointed to his own mouth. “Here,” he said.

“What?”

Tony pointed to Steve's mouth and then tapped his own lips with a fingertip. “Run that by me again,” he said softly.

Steve's heart jumped in his chest. He closed the distance between them in one stride and gathered Tony into his arms. This time the kiss was hard, long, and Tony opened his mouth to Steve’s and wrapped his arms around the taller man’s shoulders. One sensation after another washed over Steve – lemongrass, salty skin, warm wet tongue.

Tony was harder, denser in his arms than the USO girls he remembered, and his clasp was aggressive, like he wanted Steve to somehow absorb him. Rogers could taste a faint hint of alcohol in the kiss. Stark must’ve had a drink before coming here, maybe to steel his nerves, and Steve’s heart melted even more.

He ran his open hands up and down Stark’s back, feeling his size and weight. He found he was actually lifting Tony slightly off his feet to leverage the kiss. Tony was more of an armful than Peggy, but Steve would be able to move him around easily, and the thought thrilled him.

With relief, he could feel Tony’s erection against his own. “He can’t back out now,” he thought to himself, and moved his hands down to cup Stark’s ass. He had stared at that ass, and wondered what it would feel like around his cock many times, before forcefully slapping those thoughts away. Now...

He grasped an ass cheek in each hand, squeezing, feeling how full and firm they were. He knew he didn’t have to worry about being too forward. If the legends were anywhere near true, Stark was voracious when it came to sex. And men were different – Rogers didn’t have to fear _breaking_ them quite so much. He would savor the freedom in that.

He picked Tony up, and Stark responded by scarcely raising one leg and very cautiously moving it to wrap around the back of Rogers’ knee. Steve broke the kiss and looked into Tony’s eyes. They were narrowed and wet, dazed looking. He looked over Steve’s shoulder and nodded briefly toward the bed. “There,” he said.

Steve lifted Tony in his arms, taking his full weight, and Stark wrapped both legs around his hips. Somewhat awkwardly, Rogers started walking backwards toward the small single bed. His cock was throbbing with his heartbeat. He had no trouble sitting down and repositioning Stark in his lap.

Tony rubbed his hard cock against Steve’s abdomen, and pulled his knees under to raise himself, so he could wrap both arms around Steve’s neck and look down at him. He pressed their foreheads together briefly, then engulfed Steve’s mouth in a deep, full kiss, forcing his tongue all the way in. Steve responded, pushing his tongue between Tony’s lips, and they sucked each other’s tongues for a long moment, pressing together and feeling each other breathe. Tony’s heart was pounding against Rogers’ collarbone. His eyes were closed tightly.

Steve lifted and flipped them both over, so he was on top of Tony, and deepened the kiss. He moved between Tony’s legs, and rubbed his cock against Tony’s clothed perineum. He could feel Tony move beneath him, turning slightly this way and that, and realized he was removing each of his shoes with the opposite foot. Then he drew his bare feet up and rubbed Steve’s ass with his heels.

His right hand wormed between their bodies and palmed Steve’s rock hard cock through his pants. “Holy shit,” he whispered, feeling the size of it. He began to rub his hand up and down its length, very slowly.

Rogers reached for Tony’s jeans and tried to undo them, but he had trouble, and he suddenly felt inexperienced and clumsy. Stark simply said, “Here, let me” and unfastened and unzipped in smooth, quick motions. Then he wriggled under Steve until he had removed both his jeans and underwear.

Stark was now completely naked from the waist down. Steve felt his head might explode. He had complete access to Tony's body, and his hands flew everywhere. He felt the smooth skin at the small of Tony’s back, and reached down for his ass again. He grasped and squeezed both cheeks, rubbing his thumbs against then, feeling how soft the skin was over the relaxed muscle. Stark had a completely hairless ass, Steve realized with delight.

He reached between Tony’s cheeks and around to his front, and felt Tony’s ball sac fall into his palm. He felt the warmth of it, the softness, and he closed his hand around it gently. Tony was frantically kissing and mouthing his neck and one shoulder, where he had pulled Steve’s shirt away and exposed the skin.

Steve removed his hand and pushed it between them to grab Tony’s cock. It was hard and wet at the tip. Not anywhere near as large as Steve’s, but a good length and thickness, more than Steve had expected for a man of Tony’s small stature.

He was feeling more than a little apprehensive. This would be his first time with a man. He hadn’t known what his role would be or what Stark would expect. But Stark was naked and he was still fully clothed, and on top, and he took that to mean he would fuck Tony.

His mouth watered imagining it, but he didn’t know how to go about starting. His hands moved to part Tony’s asscheeks, and he touched the small hole between them tentatively with two fingertips. It was warm and dry, and he thought he felt it quiver under his touch. He waited for Tony’s response.

Tony held still and drew a shuddering breath.

“How do we do... ?” Steve whispered, very softly. With his free hand, Tony indicated the duffle bag next to the bed. “There’s some stuff in there,” he breathed, and Steve propped himself up on his elbows so Tony was able to move sideways and reach in to grab a small tube.

He uncapped it and squeezed a slippery substance on one of Rogers’ forefingers. “Cover your whole finger... and then you have to rub it around… ” Tony was breathing so heavily he could barely speak.

Steve coated his finger with the lube, and reached back for Tony’s hole. With the lube-slicked finger, he began to massage the small opening with his fingertip. Gently at first, then a little harder when Tony sighed. He applied more pressure until he felt his finger enter the tight ring just a tiny bit as it circled. Tony gasped, and Steve froze, not wanting to hurt him.

“Put it in,” Tony murmured, too quietly for Steve to hear at first.

“What?” he whispered into Tony’s ear, teasing inside it with his tongue.

“You can put it in. I want you to. Go slowly.”

Steve could feel the adrenaline flooding his nervous system. He felt alert, centered, like he did when going into battle.

Slowly, he pushed his finger into Stark, feeling the tight tunnel squeeze hard around it. Tony moaned, like he was feeling pain, but his hand increased its speed against Steve’s cock, and Rogers felt himself getting impossibly harder.

He was at risk of finishing too soon – he wanted to draw this out. He tried to focus on his finger in Stark’s ass. Tony’s insides were creamy and hot, warmer and tighter than a woman’s. Steve sunk his finger in as deep as it would go and gave it a twist to feel all around. It was as if Stark’s insides were lined in a fine, soft silk.

Tony shuddered and sighed, and he slowed his strokes around Rogers’ erection. Steve began to move his finger slowly in and out.

Tony clenched his legs tightly around Steve’s waist. His whole body trembled slightly each time the finger sunk deep. Rogers had complete control over Tony now, and the realization that he was caressing the most private and vulnerable part of Stark’s body from the inside seemed deliciously sinful. He had never felt so powerful. He would’ve gladly done this all afternoon. 

When he wasn’t in full combat, Steve often wasn’t comfortable in his flawless body. Too big and always on display. Now he gloried in it, its strength and stamina and beauty. Its ability to cause an alpha male like Tony Stark to lie down and open his cheeks to Steve.

Tony’s mouth was sloppy and wet, his lips rubbing over Steve’s shoulder and leaving dark marks across his shirt as he kissed across Rogers' chest, and then mouthed a clothed nipple.

He lifted his head and whispered in Steve’s ear, “Another. Put another finger in.”

Steve removed his finger and felt the little tunnel clench shut. It must have hurt, because Tony gritted his teeth and made a small hissing sound. Steve groped around on the bed for the tube, and coated two fingers, then rubbed some more on Tony’s hole. Then he breached the entrance again with just the tips of his fingers, giving Tony a chance to adjust.

After a few seconds, he inserted both fingers with a slow, steady push, as deep as they would go. Tony cried out and Steve held his position, then wiggled his fingers a little. Stark threw his head back and made an _“nnnngggg”_ sound.

Steve started to thrust with his fingers, pulling them almost out, and then sinking them all the way in, again and again. He began to add slight twists and scissors his fingers, and Tony would breathe out sharply. Steve watched his face closely. It was flushed and sheened with sweat, and his lips were parted. His large eyes were almost closed and his pupils were large and black. He was awash in pleasure.

Steve was fascinated, watching Tony’s expression as he was being finger-fucked, feeling Tony’s breath against his own mouth. He curved his fingers inside Tony’s hole to bring the tips against the wall of Tony’s channel, and stroked the muscles inside. Tony's thighs shook uncontrollably as Steve massaged his insides, and he released his breath in a long "oohhhhhhh."

Steve's entire body was burning with the urge to dominate Stark, make him lose his mind. He flexed his fingers and explored deeply, until he found what felt like a hard little knot.

When he touched it, Tony’s eyes snapped open and his channel clenched hard around Steve's fingers. Steve startled, worried he had gotten carried away, and his hand froze. He had no desire to actually _hurt_ Tony.

But to his surprise, Tony grabbed his biceps hard with his free hand. “Goddammit, Steve,” he gasped. “Keep touching that!”

Rogers plunged his fingers back in and found the little knot. He rubbed it steadily, trying not to push too hard, and stared, transfixed, into Stark's face. Tony was reveling in it, gyrating his round ass and impaling it on Steve’s fingers.

Sweat was running down Steve’s neck, and Stark lifted his head to frantically suck and kiss at it. Then he reached inside the front of Steve’s pants and grasped his naked cock. Encircling it with his hand, he began to stroke it from tip to root. When he got to the tip, he would roll his palm over the top of it and press against the slit, then slide his hand all the way down to touch Steve’s groin with his pinkie and ring fingers, feeling the patch of blond hair.

The sudden feel of skin against skin, combined with Tony’s delirious moans as he was fingered, abruptly sent Steve over the edge. Before he could even react, he was shooting a thick stream of cum all over Tony’s hand and the inside of his pants.

His climax was intense and drawn out, and he pumped furiously into Stark’s hand, emptying himself.

It had been a lifetime since he had had sex with a partner, and this was the unlikeliest partner he could imagine. Yesterday, he hadn’t felt comfortable even talking with this man. Now he didn't know where his body ended and Tony’s began. He was panting so hard he was dizzy, and his head collapsed onto Tony’s shoulder.

He lay there bonelessly, his full weight on the small body beneath him. It took him awhile to come back into himself. When he did, he realized Tony was still hard and his fingers were still in Tony’s ass.

“Shit,” he said to himself, and then “Sorry about that,” to Tony. “It’s been a long time. A long, _long_ time.”

He felt Tony smile against his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Cap,” he said softly. “I got this covered. Just keep moving your fingers.”

Steve adjusted his position, propping himself on his elbow so he could see all of Tony as he fingered him. Stark had his legs loosely drawn up and fallen to his sides, so Rogers could see his fingers moving in and out of Tony’s now-tender hole. Stark stroked his own cock languidly, breathing deeply.

The openness of his face and the trust in his brown eyes as he looked up into Steve’s took Rogers’ breath away, and he felt a rush of tenderness and protectiveness, as well as guilt. He would make up to Tony for all the times he had thought badly of him, he vowed to himself.

He rucked up Tony’s shirt so he could see his entire compact body, and moved his free hand up to gently touch one of Stark’s nipples. He was rewarded with a gasp and a narrowing of those brown eyes, and... Could he could feel his own cock stirring? It had only been a minute or so. But he was definitely getting hard.

Tony had increased the speed of his hand, and was now breathing hard with his head back, getting close.

“No, wait,” Steve breathed. He gently pushed at Stark’s hand, and Tony looked up.

“No,” he said again, stopping Tony’s hand with his. “I got you. I got this.”

He quickly wriggled out of his pants and then took Stark’s free hand and placed it on his rock-hard cock.

Stark’s eyes went wide. “Already? Are you serious?”

Steve gave him a wicked half-smile. “I got this,” he repeated. He removed his hand, and in one smooth motion moved back over Tony and hoisted Tony’s calves onto his shoulders, completely exposing his glistening hole.

He kissed Tony on one of his temples and whispered, “Are you ready?” into his ear.

Tony nodded mutely.

  


* * *

  


Steve pushed forward.

Stark’s hole stretched open around the tip of his giant cock, and he stopped when the head was in. He heard Tony breathe in deeply and then release it with a sharp “ _uhh!_ ”

Steve lifted his head. “Are you okay?” he whispered to Tony.

Tony’s eyes were shut tightly for a moment, then they opened. He nodded his head several times, quickly.

“Yeahhh. Go ahead. Go,” he urged, letting go of his cock and clutching at the bed with his hands.

He was bracing for pain, but Steve couldn’t control himself at this point. In one motion, he planted his knees and pushed himself all the way in, as deep as he would go.

“Shit!” Stark shrieked.

Rogers felt Tony’s asshole blink, then contract against the intrusion. Steve was sheathed so tight he wasn’t sure he would be able to move inside Tony without hurting him. Then Tony sighed, and Steve thought he felt the tight little channel relax slightly. He pulled back a tiny bit and then pushed forward, probing with one small stroke.

Tony went “Ohhhhh . . .” as Steve drove in deep. Stark’s head was back, exposing his throat, and the cords in his neck were clenched, but he didn’t tell Rogers to stop.

So Steve pulled back further, until just the head was in, and then pushed forward deep, until he felt Tony’s warm balls press against his groin. Tony reached up and grabbed onto Steve’s ass with both hands. A third time, Steve pulled back, this time almost all the way out, feeling Tony close up, and then slammed back in, hard, forcing Tony to open wide for him. The hot, slick, velvet feel against his cock was heavenly, and he began to thrust into Tony with hard, deep strokes.

Tony’s face was flushed and sweaty now, and every time Steve sunk in deep, he saw Stark’s brow furrow. He kept up a stream of soft “ _ohh, ohh, ohh's_ ” as Steve fucked him. Steve had levered himself up until his knees were off the bed and he was pushing with both his hips and legs, driving as deep into Tony as he could go. Both he and Stark were now slick with perspiration, and Rogers could feel it dripping off his forehead.

Some dark, hidden part of him wanted to make Tony sore, wanted him to feel it for days afterward and remember Steve inside him. He bit Stark’s neck, behind the hinge of his jaw, and thrust in with a slight twist of his hips, once, twice, three times… 

And then Stark arched his back and flexed his legs out, and screamed, “Oh, fuck, Steve! Shit!”

 _Steve._ Rogers growled possessively. Tony was coming, and Steve could feel Stark’s hole clench and spasm around his cock. The thick cum squirted over Tony’s stomach, and Steve could feel some warm flecks hit his chest. He pistoned in and out, forcing cum out of Tony’s cock until he was empty and his ass stopped clenching.

He lay under Steve, exhausted. His hole was completely open, defenseless, and Steve jackhammered in relentlessly. Tony’s “ohh, ohh, ohh's" were now faint whimpers. His legs were completely fallen open around Rogers, and his arms were limp at his sides. He could do nothing but try to relax and wait for Steve to be satisfied. Rogers could see the flinch of pain in Tony's eyes every time he sunk in deep, but he couldn't stop himself. He _needed_ this. He _had to have_ this.

Rogers' second climax hit him like a thunderbolt. He reached into Tony's hair and wrenched his head around, so their lips were touching. Then he slammed his mouth into Tony’s, forcing his tongue deep, mashing their faces together.

“Fuck, Tony, that’s so _good_ … ” he ground out, into Stark’s mouth.

Then he came hard and full, deep inside Tony’s ass. He wanted to leave his cum deeper in Stark than any other man that had fucked him before. To _claim_ him. Again, it seemed to last forever. His entire body felt like it was spinning with the thrill, and that Tony was being pulled around with him. He had never felt anything like it.

When he finished, he was dizzy. After he had regained some trace of composure, he released Stark’s legs and laid his full length on top of Tony. He wasn’t in a hurry to pull out. Instead, he savored the feeling of going soft inside Tony until he slipped out, then he gathered a shaking Tony into his arms and rolled them both on their sides. He held Tony and stroked his damp hair, waiting for his own heart to stop hammering.

Tony was still and quiet, and Steve began to worry. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Are you okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” replied Stark. He sounded almost apologetic. “Okay... that wasn’t... I wasn’t exactly on my game there… ”

“Are you kidding? You were incredible,” replied Steve, smiling. He pulled Stark closer. “That was _fantastic_.”

Stark was still insecure. “You threw me off. I didn’t expect you to be so _big_.” He looked embarrassed and backtracked. “I mean, yeah, I expected you to be big, but… ”

“Tony, you should’ve stopped me,” said Steve with concern.

“No, that’s a _good_ thing. I’m just out of practice, that’s all.” He looked down Steve’s length. “What’s it like to have a cock that big? Lemme see that thing.”

Steve pushed himself up and kneeled on the bed. He normally would’ve been embarrassed to be admired in this way. Now he was proud to show off his body for Tony. He wanted to share everything he had with him. He had not had this feeling of _belonging_ since he had been rescued from the ice, and it gave him a sudden surge of confidence.

Tony stared. “Christ, Cap. That’s magnificent.”

“You’re pretty well-endowed yourself, Mr. Billionaire,” Rogers chuckled, nuzzling back up to Stark. “I guess we can lay to rest the theory that you’re compensating.”

Stark scoffed. “Pepper was never too impressed.”

Steve had so far avoided taking sides in Stark’s romantic problems, but now he said dryly, “Pepper should have cut you a break, every once in awhile.” He put his arms back around Tony, and pulled him closer, until his face rested against Stark’s head. He smelled Tony’s hair and kissed the side of his face. “What do we do now?”

Stark shrugged. “I guess we go back to our respective corners. I’ll start the ball rolling on my end. Well, it’s more of a boulder. I might need to really put my back into it." Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted. He obviously was anticipating quite a struggle. "I’ll contact you when I can, and give you a play-by-play.”

Then Stark abruptly scrunched his forehead and gave Steve a suspicious look. “You didn't do this just to get me to work my ass off to get you back home, did you?”

Rogers was genuinely hurt by that. “No, Tony, I didn't,” he replied with resignation. “Look. I only lied to you once. Are you never going to trust me again?”

Tony side-eyed him. “No... I trust you. I just... Siberia made an impression, that’s all.”

“On all of us,” Steve retorted, and regretted it instantly. He remembered Tony’s terrified look after his helmet was ripped off, when he’d almost swung down the shield. He came within a breath of killing Tony, with the shield Tony’s father had given him. Trusted him to never misuse, because he was _a good man_. “Let’s not ever do anything like that again,” he said softly.

“And what about the Accords? The original problem is still there.”

“We’ll think of something.” Steve gave Tony a gentle kiss, cupping his jaw. “… But I don’t want to think about it now. This is the first time I've been happy in an ice age. I want to enjoy this.” He changed subjects.

“You know, you’re my first guy,” he whispered to Tony.

Tony turned and looked at him skeptically. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Stark raised up on one elbow. “You mean, in the army... there was never some time out on a mission, or… ”

“Nope, just you.” Steve quirked a brow. “You seemed pretty surprised that I was into it, before.”

“Yeah, but, y'know. No women in combat back then. Even straight guys make due in a pinch.” Tony’s expression was gentle. “I thought, maybe, you and Barnes… ”

Steve barked out a laugh. “With Bucky?! _God_ , no. That would be like fucking my brother!” He gave Tony a mischievous look. “But someday, I’ll be sure to tell him you thought that.”

“Well, that’s good. One less reason to hate him, anyway.”

Steve ran a hand through Stark’s dark hair. “You won’t hate him when you get to know him. I think you’ll understand each other. He’s kind of a wise-ass, too. Granted, he hasn’t honed it into an art form like you.”

Stark smacked him on the ass. “Shut it, Cap,” he said. “We don’t need you joining the guild.”

Tony smiled at him lazily. He reached down to grab the bottom of Steve’s shirt and helped him pull it over his head.

“That’s better,” he said. He reached out and ran his hand down Steve’s chest, over his nipples, down to his hard wall of abs, admiring Steve’s smooth, flawless skin. Then he slid his hands down the curves of Rogers’ waist and to his hips.

“Golden perfection,” he breathed in Steve’s ear. “Who knew a choir boy could be such a _sex god_?” Rogers chuckled bashfully.

The sun was getting lower in the sky, and the cottage was chilly. Tony wrapped himself more tightly around Steve, seeking warmth.

Rogers had been noticing, with idle lust, how Stark’s soft cock was rolling around between them. But when Stark curled up to him, he felt Stark’s warm, almost-hairless balls pressing against his stomach, as well as the small thatch of dark pubic hair.

Just like that, Steve was hard – again.

“Uh, Tony… ”

Stark had felt it, too, and scooted away. Steve saw something like panic in his eyes.

“Holy _crap_ ,” he stammered. “Is that... is it the serum doing that?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Steve replied with wonder. “The smoking hot guy I’m with probably doesn't hurt.”

Tony shook his head fearfully. “I’m sorry, Cap. I don’t think I can go again.”

Steve put his arms around Tony, stroking his back to calm him.

“You’re not going again. Even if you wanted to, I wouldn't let you.”

He slowly sat up on the bed, and lifted Tony onto his lap, positioning Tony’s thighs on his, and wrapping Stark’s legs around his hips. His cock was poking against Stark’s balls, and he nuzzled into Stark’s neck. “All you have to do is hold on.”

  


* * *

  


Steve pulled Tony closer, until his cock nudged Tony’s perineum. He began to grind gently, rubbing his cock head against the plump little spot, enjoying the friction. Then he wrapped one arm across Tony’s back. With his other hand, he reached around the back of Tony’s head, and brought their faces together. 

“Mmm, Tony... you’re so soft right there,” he rumbled against Stark’s lips. Stark dropped his head and rested it against Steve’s shoulder.

Rogers grasped him harder, closer, pushing Tony’s t-shirt all the way up so he could press Stark’s entire naked front against his. His grinding became harder and more frantic.

He gripped one of Tony’s ass cheeks with one hand and used it to hold Tony’s hips still. His cock head rubbed from behind Stark’s balls, over his hole and up the whole length of his crack, then back. Tony’s perineum and crack were slick with sweat and Rogers’ precum, and Steve began to slide easily back and forth, with abandon.

“Tony. _My_ Tony,” he whispered against Stark’s face.

Tony clutched his neck with both arms, trying not to slip off. Sweat was running down his ribs. He could feel how close Steve was, and he reached under Steve’s chin with his hand to raise his face. His eyes met Steve’s.

“Look at me when you come,” he rasped.

Steve’s balls drew up and he came. The contractions felt like they were coming from the very root of his ball sac. They were deep and intense this time, almost painful.

But he pried his blue eyes open and looked deep into Stark’s brown ones. His cum oozed against Stark’s perineum and his thrusting cock rubbed it into Stark’s crack.

“Oh, fuck, Tony… ” he moaned, shuddering.

Stark dived into his open mouth, pushing Rogers’ breath back down with his tongue. He moved his mouth slowly against Rogers’, holding the kiss, feeling himself rising up and down with Steve’s heaving chest. He waited for Steve’s breath to slow, and then broke the kiss. Then he moved his lips up, and kissed Rogers’ flushed face and sweating forehead.

When Steve could think again, he lifted Tony and laid him back down on the bed. Then he eased behind him, spooning him. He kissed and nudged his face against the nape of Stark’s neck, where his dark hair curled, inhaling his smell. Lemongrass. _Tony._

Eventually, Stark sighed. “Alright, I’m seeing a problem.” He sounded crestfallen. “You need a younger man.”

“Bullshit,” Steve scoffed, raising his head to see Tony’s eyes. “I rushed five thousand miles to this dump in the middle of nowhere to get to Tony Stark. He’s the only man I want.”

He beamed down at Tony. This man had been his nemesis for years, a constant low-level anxiety that he had to deal with whenever he was involved with anything related to the Avengers. That problem had completely disappeared in the space of a couple of hours, and he was euphoric. Despite the occasional brief fantasy, he had never seriously thought it was possible that he and Stark could be lovers. Now he thought to himself he had never felt this comfortable, this peaceful, with anyone – even Peggy. He wished to stay here forever, curled up with Tony.

“You good?” he asked, as he stroked Tony’s back.

Stark glanced over his shoulder in mock irritation. “Aren't you hard again yet? What's taking so long?”

Steve laughed. “I think I need a few minutes.”

“Slacker.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

Tony squinted at him. “ _Yeah_ , Cap.”

“Good. Because I think T’Challa threatened to kill me if I physically harmed you.”

“The man’s a prince.”

“A king, actually.”

“I doubt he meant getting fucked through a mattress when he said ‘physically harmed’.”

Steve looked down at the mattress under them. “I think we might’ve damaged this bed.”

“That'll happen when you rent to deviants who just want to use your property for kinky sex. Anyway… ” Stark's voice trailed off, preoccupied.

Steve was troubled by his tone. “You seem subdued, Tony. Are you regretting this?”

“No, Cap. I’m thinking of all the crap I gotta deal with, after we leave.”

“How will I know what’s happening over there after I return to Wakanda?” Steve asked with concern. “Or how you’re doing?”

“I’ll keep in touch, Cap. Don’t worry.”

“Will you be able to manage that? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“Do you actually think any of those clowns can stop me from communicating with someone if I want to? They won’t even know. I’m practically living in that computer T’Challa gave you already.”

Steve shook his head. “You’re a scary human being, Stark.”

“Not lately.”

Steve sighed sadly. “I don’t wanna go.”

Tony turned and gave him a wry smile. “You don’t have to go. We have the place ‘til tomorrow morning. I’m too tired to drive back – I’m spending the night here.”

"Me, too." Steve snuggled up to Tony’s back and reached his hands under Tony’s arms, to circle his ribs. “I meant I don’t want to leave _at all_. I’m good right here.” Steve smiled to himself. “I’m so happy about this,” he said, simply.

“ _I’m_ so happy I didn’t punk out. I wasn't even gonna come. T’Challa had to twist my arm. We should probably send him a fruit basket or something.”

“Do you know what this means, Tony? We get a do-over. We _can_ live together in New York. Or wherever you want.” Steve didn’t care that he sounded besotted, or worry about pushing too hard. He was sick of playing it cool. “We can have the Avengers back. Like we were before.” He couldn’t suppress his perfect smile. “God, I’ve missed Sam. I can’t wait to see everyone again. Nat, Clint, Rhodes... ”

“Cap… ” Stark’s tone was apprehensive. “I wasn’t kidding when I said not to get carried away.” He stroked Steve’s arm absently as he spoke. “The chances we’re going to get all that stuff, no-strings-attached, are slim and none.”

He turned onto his back and looked up into Steve’s face.

“I’ve got a lot more pull with the D.O.D. than they’ll ever admit publicly, but it’s not unlimited. Ross thinks this whole thing made him look bad. He’s going to be loaded for bear. Not that I wanted to throw a giant wet blanket over your mood... I just don’t want you to be totally let-down if things don’t go as well as we’d like.” He sounded tired just thinking about it.

“I will be happy with anything you can manage. I don’t need ‘all that stuff’. It would be great to have, but… ,” Steve paused to contemplate, “the only thing I really need… ,” he gestured between he and Tony, “is _THIS_.”

Tony studied Steve’s face with soft, drowsy eyes, as he continued.

“I need this to be _real_ , Tony. What just happened with us. If we’re apart for awhile... and then the next time we’re together, I find we’re all the way back at square one, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it. It’ll kill me.”

Tony smiled reassuringly. “I’m sorry, have we met?” he said, around a yawn. “You know I’m not like that, Cap.” He rolled back over on his side and wiggled his back and ass close against Steve, inviting him to spoon. “I can be a bastard, sure, but I’m as loyal as an old dog to the people I love.”

Rogers knew Stark was insinuating nothing by that remark. He was just stating what he saw as a fact. Still, Rogers felt it like a lash.

(And did Tony realize… he had actually used the word _love_? In reference to Steve?)

A sinister cloud floated onto Rogers' horizon. He wanted no obstacles in the way of the connection they were building. “Tony, be honest. Can you ever be okay with Bucky?” Steve studied Stark’s expression. “He has to be in my life. I don’t want you to hate him. And I don't want you to keep a distance because of him.” He kissed Stark's temple. "I need you both."

Stark closed his eyes.

“You said you loved my dad. I’m choosing to believe you. So him being murdered must’ve hurt you. And if you don’t hate Barnes, you must be certain he wasn't in control of his mind at the time.”

Tony sounded drained. “I choose to trust you. It might be because it’s the path of least resistance, or maybe I just _want_ to trust you. But I’m gonna follow your judgment on this. I’ll give him a chance. It’ll be hard, but I’ll try.” He clasped Steve’s fingers in his. “For _you_.”

Steve’s heart was overflowing. Everything he had ever wanted, a home, a _family_ , was becoming a possibility. He could barely believe he wasn’t dreaming. He hugged Stark tight to him.

“Tony,” he whispered in Stark’s ear, “you’ve worked so hard this whole time to make things okay. And I treated you horribly for your efforts. I’m so sorry.” He kissed Tony’s face with all the tenderness he felt. “Thank you. I’m going to make all this up to you.”

Then he smiled wickedly against Stark’s cheek. “Brace yourself. I have only begun to show my gratitude.”

He looked down at the face that had so intrigued him at first sight. Tony was fast asleep. He had been so exhausted, he had dropped off almost between one breath and the next. The ever-present anxiety was gone from his face. He looked relaxed and peaceful. With his eyes closed, his dark lashes looked even longer, and his hair was messy and soft.

Steve chuckled softly. Here was the builder of bombs that could pulverize mountain ranges. The scourge of terrorists and alien armies alike. The mad genius, who had almost destroyed the world by accidentally creating a doomsday machine. He was _adorable_. Steve was vaguely reminded of a sleeping kitten.

He held Tony in his arms, felt the slow rise and fall of his chest. He's _mine_ , Steve smiled to himself. He fits into my arms perfectly, 

In the last few months, he had once again gotten used to feeling anxious and miserable. He had felt that way all during his childhood and most of his young adult life. He had been given a reprieve when he became Captain America, and had wondered why he deserved such good fortune.

It became clear to him, during his battle with the Red Skull and Hydra, that he had only been given this gift for the purpose of self-sacrifice. He was supposed to die saving his country from being destroyed by the Tesseract. It had been obvious.

But then he was thawed out. He was alive and had no idea why. So he had joined the Avengers. That had gone wrong.

Then he had decided to die saving Bucky. He had survived that, thanks to the Winter Soldier. And he had decided his purpose was to make Bucky whole again. That hadn’t worked so far, and he had left a trail of wreckage in his wake.

So he had returned to being anxious and miserable. It had occurred to him that this time, it might be his permanent state.

His mood had done a full turnaround so fast, he felt as if he was in shock. He was light-headed and full of hope. He had a future, one that might even involve happiness. And love.

He tried to calm his heart. The Avengers were still scattered. There were a lot of hurdles that had to be cleared before he was home. Bucky was still damaged. And Tony Stark had proven to be a difficult man to handle, long-term. But he fit perfectly in Steve's arms.

Rogers had figured out that whenever Tony made a monumentally bad decision, it was never out of greed, malice or a hunger for power - it was because of fear and a feeling of helplessness. His spectacular brain couldn't process the concept of helplessness. What he needed was a partner who could stop him from flailing around intellectually (because that was Tony’s _thing_ ) when some problem was out of his control. Someone he could trust. Someone who wouldn't desert him. So far, Steve hadn't been that someone. But he _would_ be from now on, he promised. He wouldn't disappoint Tony, or himself, again.

Was this his purpose? He knew Tony respected him. They could learn to live together. Given some time, he and Stark could be an invincible team. And what the hell - he was Captain America. He was created to solve impossible problems. And this was for love... what better purpose could a man have?

It wouldn't be easy. And it would end in disaster, of course. It always _did_. That was his life. He would find a way to survive. That was also his life. And he would drag Tony Stark along with him.

With that thought, his countless regrets and worries melted away in the twilight. He stopped resisting, and allowed tranquil thoughts to drift in and carry him off. He curled around Tony, and for the first time in forever, fell into deep, contented sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel is [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11094450/chapters/24752043).


End file.
